Happy Endings Are All the Same
by DJ Apocalypse
Summary: Ozaki saves Muroi from himself, then realizes that that's a much bigger project than he first thought it would be. BL. Rating higher for later chapters. I'm attempting to write something that'll have a happy ending for once. WIP. AU. Now with smut!
1. Chapter One

A/N: So, I'm not exactly sure where this story is going. It's just kind of writing itself. I'll tell you this, though – I'm attempting to get to a good ending with it, although I suspect it'll be a more adult iteration of 'good ending' rather than a Disney princess version of 'good ending' (I specify Disney princess as opposed to fairy tale since fairy tales in their pre-Disney forms have more complex/conflicted endings). But I'm really going to try to get there.

On a second note, I've noticed some of my readers are favorite'ing my other Shiki stories, but not leaving reviews… folks, if you like it enough to call it a favorite or to sign up for alerts for when it gets updated (which they won't, they're one-shots; this time I'm not doing a one-shot, though), why not leave a review? Reviews honestly do make me more inclined to write.

I would also like to note that I do not include suicide in every story with Muroi in a cavalier manner. I do feel it is important to mention that, as it is possible that it comes off as being exploitative. I have had several friends and acquaintances commit suicide and have struggled with suicidal feelings myself, so I want to stress that I do not consider it merely as a convenient way to get Muroi and Ozaki involved romantically or sexually.

And, finally, I dedicate this story, once again, to Caraniel, my most dedicated reader, and I vow to fight Vuc to the end for her heart ;)

Happy Endings Are All the Same

"You're staying here."

It was a firm statement, a statement which solicited no argument, the tone leaving no room for debate. Seishin regarded Toshio with flat eyes, his bandaged arm hanging loosely at his side. He felt underclothed, his shirt crumpled in the corner of the doctor's office, his pants speckled with bloodstains. His religious garb still hung on the hanger at home; if he'd been in it, would he now be naked? He shivered uneasily at the thought.

If anything, he felt more miserable standing here now than he had a couple of hours earlier when he'd calmly sat down, slid the door to the outdoors open, and slit his own wrist. If he really thought about it, he wasn't at all miserable, actually, when he'd done so – he'd been deeply unhappy before he finally made his decision, but an intense calm had come over him after he decided it. It was even possible that he had felt quite happy as he'd swiped the blade easily across his arm.

And then had come the pain. It hadn't hurt at first – the cut was so clean, it was done so quickly. But as the blood beaded along the line, a stinging sensation had bubbled up, to be replaced by an intense burning. It had been almost unbearable. But he'd remained sitting, looking out at the summer skies and the still landscape. The sun had seemed to fade as he'd sat there, although he knew it was only the early afternoon, had known that there were no clouds.

He realized he had slumped completely to the floor, however, when he felt someone tugging insistently at his arm, had noticed that there was a voice calling for him. The pain had receded mostly, but now it returned, a stabbing-type feeling in his arm with each jerk of the limb. He felt he was dreaming, and this threatened to pull him loose from it all. But he found he had little strength to resist, and then it all seemed to slip out of his grasp like the air.

This hadn't seemed important until he'd come around, a needle pricking repeatedly at his left arm. It was like falling, and he instinctively braced himself before realizing it was simply himself regaining consciousness. The doctor's office came slowly into focus, the hard chair beneath himself making itself apparent. Toshio's slow, soft cursing became audible all at once, and Seishin had looked at him with some surprise as he tried to make everything cohesive.

Of course. Toshio had saved him. Had saved him? Had damned him? Had grabbed him, had brought him here, was now sewing his arm shut.

But it was the lack of shirt which truly made him sit up. Toshio swore loudly as Seishin's arm jerked away from him, and then glared at the other man, snatching the limb back. It was clear that he was angry, although it wasn't clear with whom. Probably both himself and Seishin. Which meant there was a good chance that he was going to be mean.

But now Seishin stood in the middle of the office, awkwardly, his arm stitched and bandaged. He felt as though he may as well have had his hands tied together for the look that Toshio had fixed upon him now. He didn't know why he'd even bothered to stand up; he felt woozy, suddenly, and he feared that if he tried to take a step he'd stumble. Toshio was still sitting in his swivel chair, the angry expression faded slightly, an authoritarian style one having taken over more fully.

However, Seishin knew him well enough that he knew that it was this expression Toshio forced since the alternative would've been one of confusion and despair. He felt terrible. He hadn't predicted that Toshio would be around for any reason during the daytime… he had anticipated one of the temple workers coming to ask him a question or something of that sort. His mother and father had gone to see relatives elsewhere, after all…

Yet, if he was being honest, he would have to confess that a small corner of himself was angry. He'd "saved" him – saved him as he saw it, hadn't he? No regard there for what Seishin himself wanted, was there? The same as it always was now. What he wanted mattered very little. But what the doctor believed? It mattered more than anything, didn't it? And he believed that Seishin had to be prevented from carrying out his own wishes, apparently.

It fueled a funny little black hatred which he had first noticed about a year prior when his friend had gotten married. He'd felt profoundly out of joint as he'd watched them repeat the vows, and then a nauseous sensation when they had kissed. He'd also been upset with this reaction of his. And yet he'd also felt a worming sense of disgust when Toshio had spoken warmly with him at the reception following. All because Toshio just didn't seem to take any notice at all of how his own childhood friend was feeling, and hadn't seemed to have been capable of doing so since they'd both gone off to university.

Of course, this in turn just served to reinforce his own self-hatred. How could he be so awful about Toshio, after all? If he wasn't aware of how Seishin was feeling, wasn't that mainly Seishin's fault? Toshio would ask him how he was, and he always gave his standard bland response before rushing on to some other topic. To distract him. So how could he have known?

The creaking of Toshio's chair as he turned it interrupted Seishin's thoughts. Toshio was shutting off the small lamp on his desk, preparing to leave the office. His hand crumpled a sheet of paper, then stuffed it in his pocket. He stood, not facing Seishin, "I'm not giving you a transfusion. We don't have any of your bloodtype." He turned back to Seishin, "And I don't trust you enough, anyway. It'll be better if you're sluggish for a few days."

There was a hard look about him, and Seishin looked away, ashamed. He was probably right to keep him like this, unsteady. He would've done the same had he been Toshio.

"Come on. You shouldn't be standing anyway."

He took his arm as he said this, and began to guide Seishin out of the room. The floorboards beneath him felt wobbly, and he leaned heavily into Toshio. The clinic was empty and quiet, and they passed through easily to the living quarters. Seishin felt himself grow tense, afraid of running into Mrs. Ozaki. She'd always seemed to be contemptuous of him, and he doubted that this would improve her opinion of him by much.

They had to stop twice on the stairs, Seishin panting from the exertion. There were spots in his vision, and he wanted nothing more than to simply sink to sit on the stairs and remain there. But after a few minutes rest both times, Toshio roughly forced him to move along.

He was surprised when they went into Toshio's childhood bedroom; he knew that he'd moved into the larger spare bedroom after graduating high school. But they had gone to the very end of the hall, past the elder doctor's bedroom, past Mrs. Ozaki's bedroom, past the bathroom, past the study, past the bedroom Toshio had shared with Kyouko, all the way to the room of his youth, the walls still hung with old posters from bygone baseball team rosters, the bookshelves crowded with yellowing issues of Shounen Jump.

It was strangely comforting to be here. And Seishin was glad that they hadn't stopped at the other bedroom, although Kyouko herself had been gone for four months or so now. He wasn't sure he could've managed to stay in there without going mad. But here was a cheerful reminder of a better time, a time before death-wishes and wives. He'd spent a good deal of his own childhood in here, secretly reading manga with Toshio with flashlights under their covers when they were supposed to be asleep. He almost smiled at the memory.

Toshio had left him by the door and gotten a futon out of the closet. He gave it a hard shake before unfurling it on the floor, then returned to the closet for a pillow and blankets. His own bed was Western in style, the mattress raised a foot and a half off the floor. Mrs. Ozaki enjoyed wearing a kimono, but she had never seemed to enjoy anything else Japanese. Futon ranked somewhere between rotted food and hot weather as far as she was concerned. But they still owned a few anyway, passed down from previous generations who had been more inclined toward their use.

After setting out the futon, Toshio went to his bureau, and took one of his older yukata out, then returned to Seishin, "Here. Change."

Seishin took the clothing, and walked fully into the room. Behind him, Toshio closed the door. He looked back and saw that Toshio had averted his eyes, and Seishin bit his lip, uncomfortable. But he turned away toward the windows; it was unlikely that he would be able to convince him to leave the room entirely. And so he changed like that, the silence almost crushing.

He pulled at the sleeves when he was done, feeling exposed. The entire thing was just slightly too short. But it was entirely possible that this was part of the point; Toshio had already told him he didn't even trust him enough to give him a transfusion, after all. Why would he trust him enough to have his arms fully covered, then? Well, he wouldn't. And didn't.

"I'm done." He said it softly, his pants folded in his arms.

Toshio took the pants from him, and stuffed them into the hamper in the corner of his room, "You should lie down, then."

Seishin obeyed him, but he felt awkward as he did so, Toshio watching him. When he'd pulled the sheets up, Toshio had retrieved a book from the floor and settled into his chair by the window. Seishin couldn't read the title on the cover from he lay, the shadows throwing it into too-sharp relief. He could hear himself asking inside his head what the book was, but he remained silent, unwilling to speak even for such a simple thing.

He realized he must've drifted off when he became aware that the room had grown quite dim, and that Toshio was no longer by the window. A panicky feeling seized him, and he looked around sharply. He felt achy and tired, as if he had not slept at all, and his glasses were gone.

The squeak of the door's hinges sounded when Toshio entered the room again. He was now wearing pajamas, a bowl of something hot in his hands, the steam giving it away. He clicked a small lamp on by the bed, lighting up the room somewhat. Seishin sat up as Toshio knelt next to him, sticking a spoon into what looked to be a thin-ish stew. He looked up at Seishin, "You need to eat something."

The smell made him realize that he was starving, and he couldn't really remember what it was he'd even eaten at all earlier in the day. If he'd actually eaten anything. He frowned, realizing that there was a definite chance that he had not bothered. He took the bowl carefully, and began to eat, the hot food filling him up rapidly. Even with Toshio watching him so closely, he did not feel self-conscious.

Toshio took the bowl when it was empty, then stood and set it on the narrow windowsill. He sat down on his bed, stifling a yawn. He looked exhausted. He looked at Seishin for a moment or two, as if he wanted to say something. But then he reached for the lamp instead, and turned it off, the room fading once more. Seishin could hear him moving the sheets before his eyes adjusted and he could make out his shadowy form.

A hand reached out in the darkness, "Give me your hand."

He took it wordlessly, and Toshio gripped him tightly, "If I do this, then you can't leave, can you?"

Seishin looked away, even as he could not see Toshio's face. The grip didn't fade.

"No… I can't…"


	2. Chapter Two

A/N: Happy endings are all the same? Happy endings are so hard! Especially when dealing with characters from Shiki, particularly characters named Seishin Muroi.

Reviews are love~

Happy Endings Are All the Same:

Chapter Two

They settled into a routine too easily, this hand-holding thing. For a few days Seishin had remained with Toshio in the clinic, word having been sent up to the temple and its workers that the young priest was suffering from a mild ailment and would return after a rest at the clinic. Toshio didn't tell Seishin, and Seishin didn't ask, but it was hardly a secret that he intended to keep him until his parents returned to their home. He couldn't see him trying anything funny with both his mother and father in the house, after all; he'd waited until they weren't, hadn't he? He was miserable, but not heartless.

So Seishin spent four days mainly confined to Toshio's room, too unsteady the first couple of days to truly wander, too afraid of Mrs. Ozaki for the remainder to truly wander. And, it was just as well – Mrs. Ozaki knew he was there and had sneered about the set-up when her son had mentioned it to her. Toshio hardly said the precise reason why, but even the excuse of dehydration and acute anemia were evidence of weakness to her. So Toshio carried up meals every day, and Seishin generally gazed emptily out the window, watching the full arc of the sun as the hours passed. Despite the heat, he kept a sheet draped over himself at all times, his arms completely hidden in the folds.

And every night Toshio did the same thing – reached out for Seishin's hand and gripped it as he fell asleep. It made his arm ache by the morning, the angle making the limb stiff and deprived of blood, but he did it nonetheless. He couldn't run away if his hand was held. He wouldn't.

On the fourth day, Seishin returned to the temple, his strength enough to accommodate his usual activities, even if at a slightly slowed pace. He was still too pale and didn't look entirely well, but he looked much better than he had when sprawled in his room, the sunlight glimmering against his hair and his blood. He no longer looked as if he were dead.

Toshio wasn't happy to see him go, even if he felt more at ease with the elder priest and his wife at home once again. He felt leery about it, and to think on the lies Seishin would smoothly tell them made him feel downright upset. He should've tried to talk to him more when the priest had lain next to his bed for the previous nights. He should've made him promise to get help.

But it had been so hard to even speak to him about the most basic of things. He didn't know what to say, quite simply. Had it been another villager, he was sure he could've done his proper duties as a doctor – bandaged them up, made a referral, done a few house-calls. Easy. A bit uncomfortable? Probably. But it wouldn't have been difficult.

So he felt inadequate as he watched Seishin leave, and was plagued with doubts throughout that day. The medical report, the accurate one, was still crumpled in the pocket of his doctor's coat. He could still photocopy it, shanghai the other man, and drive him up to the district hospital. It was still a possibility. And, yet, even this did not seem quite proper to do for a friend.

A friend. They were friends, right? They had been when they were younger. Were they still? He thought of the other man as a friend, but had he really been one to him recently? It was pure chance that he'd found him when he had, had been able to resuscitate him and care for him. And he'd only gone as a lark by there – had been passing by and thought he'd drop in. Figured they'd chat.

Chat, a light chat. Nothing serious. Which was, perhaps, indicative of a larger issue – this is all they'd seemed to do lately, have these fairly light chats. In the month leading up to Kyouko's departure, he'd spent a lot of time with Seishin, and he'd done most of the talking. It had been angry talk, despairing talk. And in the month following it, he'd also done a lot of talking at Seishin. And Seishin had listened to him patiently, let him keep him awake to ungodly hours with all his problems. Let him drink himself silly sometimes, and pass out on the floor, although he always tried to get him into the guest futon. Sometimes let him even fall into slumber in Seishin's own bed. Twice they had shared that bed, but after that if he ever slept there he would find Seishin stretched out in the guest futon himself, and he would feel a mild sense of guilt for having displaced him in his own room.

Had Seishin been feeling so unhappy even then? He didn't know, couldn't know. He hadn't been paying him much heed at all. He was too upset himself.

When had Seishin become so sad? Had it been since then? Before then? It couldn't have been… well, he knew he could only say that it couldn't have been before college ended. Seishin had never been the loudest of men or the most bold, but this passive pleasantness which seemed to have become his character was of more recent vintage than his youth. Was where this started where it all started?

He felt empty and distracted, disappointed in himself. This hadn't happened overnight, clearly. There had been some build-up to it. And he'd been too wrapped up in his own life to take notice of it. It had always been something since college ended – medical school, dating Kyouko, working at the university hospital, moving back to Sotoba after his father had died, marrying Kyouko, his marriage falling apart… Always something.

Somethings which had never managed to be Seishin somehow.

At the end of the day, he felt worn out. He hadn't seen too many patients, and those he had seen had had fairly minor complaints. It had left him with a lot of time to ruminate about things, and it was this which had made him so weary. He put his head down on his desk and sighed, wondering about what he could have for dinner. His mother had gotten angry and dismissed their sole servant in a fit of passive-aggressiveness toward Kyouko, and they had continued to go without one even with Kyouko gone for so long already. Mrs. Ozaki had discovered how difficult it was to get servants in the modern world and in the countryside very quickly.

He settled for a microwave meal, however inadequate they always felt. He'd gone upstairs and changed into bedclothes already, ready to make an early night of it. He'd also retrieved the book he'd just started when he'd made Seishin lie down and sleep in his room despite the early hour. It was actually one of Seishin's own; he'd bought them, but had neglected to read all but one of them, and a weird sense of guilt had lead him to picking one of them to pass the afternoon hours as he watched over Seishin.

He realized he was an impatient man when he flipped to the end half-way through to see what happened. When he saw that it had an unhappy conclusion, and thought back to the fact that the other one he'd read had been the same, he found himself pulling all of them from the shelf and flipping through to see what the contents were, checking the back cover's summary for an idea of the entire things. None of them were at all cheerful or pleasant in any sense. Maybe if he'd read them before he would've figured it all out much sooner.

He continued to read the book over his food in a state of unrest, a state that carried over after he had set it aside and gone to wash up his dishes. He was regarding the bottle of sake in the cupboard with great thought when he heard the doorbell ring, and shut the door reluctantly, going to answer the chime.

It was Seishin who stood outside, looking at the ground even when Toshio spoke to him and invited him in. Inside the light in the hall seemed to glare, casting a harsh illumination over Seishin. Toshio frowned, "Have you eaten yet?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

Seishin looked at him with some surprise, although it was muted and only apparent by his overall lack of affect, "Yes, I am sure."

They went upstairs, the sake firmly forgotten. In the room of his youth, Toshio was unsure of what to do, Seishin having said no more as they'd walked through the house. He'd cast a worried glance at Mrs. Ozaki's door as they'd gone past, but this was the extent of any indication of anything.

But now Seishin turned to Toshio, still refusing to meet his eyes, "Could I… borrow those pajamas again?"

Toshio felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. He'd hardly been expecting this. In fact, that Seishin had appeared at his door at all had been unexpected. He had anticipated spending a few days puzzling over the matter culminating in action on his own part toward Seishin. That Seishin had been the one to act first, whatever it was he was acting for or upon, had not entered his mind as a possibility.

He wordlessly fetched another yukata out of the drawer of his bureau, although it was another one of his older ones. He looked at for a moment, shook his head, and then re-opened the drawers, drawing a more Western set out instead, one of his own current pairs. He'd given that old yukata to him while angered, and felt unkind now to repeat the action. He handed it over to Seishin, and then turned away, going to the closet for the futon.

With the futon laid out and Seishin finished dressing, Toshio looked at the room uneasily, and then spoke, "Would you like to go to sleep?" It was still fairly early, but he was tired and didn't know what else to suggest instead. Maybe they could read? The tension had returned and he couldn't figure out how to speak to his friend beyond the barest necessities.

Seishin nodded, and he felt a certain sense of relief. They both climbed into their respective sleeping places, and Toshio turned off the light, then reached for Seishin's hand. He didn't even bother to ask this time, and the hand slipping into his own told him he didn't have to. They'd reached some kind of wordless agreement.

Seishin buried his face in his own pillow, not wanting to even look in Toshio's direction. He knew that the darkness hid his face already, but he felt that if he looked, even in the dark, Toshio would somehow manage to work it out properly. Whatever it exactly was. Which he wasn't willing to admit, even to himself.

He thought they would simply slumber like that, but Toshio's voice sounded suddenly, "Hey, Seishin… why do none of your books have happy endings?"

"You've read them?" He looked up from the pillow now, the question catching him off guard.

"I'm reading one of them. And I'd read one before. I looked at the rest. Why are they so sad?"

He looked away again, turning his face toward the other wall, his voice quiet, "Because… happy endings are all the same..."

Toshio shifted, frowning, "That isn't true."

"I don't know how to write them anyway…"

He could hear Toshio shifting, felt him doing so through their clasped hands, as the other man rolled completely onto his side to look at him even though it was all dark. He could hear the frown in his voice, too, when he spoke, "Seishin, why did you… do that? Why are you so unhappy?"

"Because the world is empty."

It was painful to say, but if he was unhappy, he was unhappy, no sense in trying to pretend otherwise now. He started to bury his face again, determined to ignore anything else the doctor said, exhausted by what little had passed between them already.

But he felt a tug at his arm, and found himself being pulled upwards. Without thinking, he moved with it, allowing himself to be drawn in. He found himself in Toshio's bed, Toshio gripping his hand so tightly it hurt. They were so close now, and he felt a nervous fluttering in his chest, the bed truly too small to accommodate two people.

"It doesn't have to be." Toshio said, gruffly, "The world doesn't have to be empty."

Seishin said nothing, but he let himself go. He let his hand be crushed, let Toshio keep him so close, his own futon empty on the floor. Toshio didn't say anything more, either. And, somehow, he slept. Somehow, he slept.


	3. Chapter Three

A/N: Not much to say, except that I love getting reviews and that writing porn is easier than writing legit stuff. Before you ask, that is to say that writing this was more difficult than writing the pornfest that is my fic The Bicycle Paths of Sotoba. But if you're into reading about Muroi sleeping with half the cast… then that one's for you.

Happy Endings Are All the Same:

Chapter Three

When he awoke the next morning, Seishin was seized with a panic, one which only faded as his slumber fully dissolved and he remembered what had brought him to where he was. Of course. It had been Toshio who had dragged him into the bed from the floor, done so when he'd finally admitted how he'd been feeling for so long – that the world was empty. Or, at least, that his own world was.

Seishin looked at the sleeping doctor now, the other man snoring lightly in his sleep, one hand still loosely gripping Seishin's arm. He could feel the corners of his mouth easing upwards, a slight smile forming, a real smile forming. He was accustomed to soft smiles in his daily life, but not to those that were true. Smiles had become a calculated art for him, and it felt strange to have one surface without him thinking about it first.

He carefully removed his wrist from Toshio's hand, and eased out of the bed, trying to not disturb Toshio's sleep. Once out of the bed, he quietly re-folded the futon and its blankets, then set them by the closet door. He re-dressed and folded the pajamas, too, placing them atop the futon pile. And then he quickly wrote a small note, and left.

An hour later, Toshio had a similar bit of panic when he first awoke, although it receded mostly when he found Seishin's note. Yet he still had a lingering worry about him, regardless of the contents of the note. He had not seen Seishin smiling, after all. He called up the temple under false pretense, claiming that Seishin had forgotten something. Mrs. Muroi promised to pass along the message; Seishin was currently outside doing the morning chores.

They drank tea that night when Seishin appeared again, and it only seemed natural for Toshio to prevent him from rolling out the futon in favor of him sleeping in the bed once again. When he protested over the size, arguing that it was simply too small to be comfortable for two, Toshio took the abandoned futon, rolled it flat with a snap, and simply crawled in after Seishin had already settled. Seishin rolled over to argue, but Toshio grabbed his hand, and the words never made it out of his mouth.

And so they started this new routine, sometimes even going so far as to eat their supper together. Mrs. Ozaki frowned over it during the daytime hours, happy to indicate her displeasure with their frequent house guest. But Toshio ignored her, as he always tended to do, and Seishin was none the wiser.

But even as their friendship warmed up again, Toshio rarely brought up what had caused it all, and when he did at all it was only after the lights were safely off and the hour late enough to speak more freely. Even then, though, Seishin was generally unreceptive, a fact which gnawed at Toshio. He was his friend, but he was also his doctor, truly – he'd treated him, after all. To do nothing at all in his professional capacity seemed wrong.

And so it was that he found himself saying, with some effort, "Seishin… have you thought about maybe going to see someone at the hospital?"

They were lying in bed, the hour late, Toshio a tad tipsy from the sake he'd imbibed as they'd sat in the kitchen, discussing all manner of light things such as the doctor's more difficult patients and how Seishin's latest novel was coming along. They never discussed anything of any true weight in the kitchen. They couldn't, not under those bright, bright lights. Not when they didn't know where Mrs. Ozaki was. Not when they could see each other's faces.

Toshio hadn't taken his hand yet, so Seishin turned away easily, facing out to the wall instead of toward the doctor as he had been. It was probably the alcohol which made it possible for Toshio to reach out and hook an arm around the priest and force him closer. All Seishin knew was that he could definitely detect the hint of alcohol in his breath, his heart pounding suddenly from within his rib cage.

"Seishin…" He could feel Toshio swallow as he paused, "Seishin… you don't… you won't do that again, will you?"

The silence was excruciating, and he felt Toshio's hold on him tighten as the seconds lengthened. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. He'd found it so easy to gloss over the queries of "How are you?" from the villagers all the time, but he found that he could not do so to this question from Toshio, even though he knew that to answer otherwise would only hurt him. But he just couldn't bring himself to lie.

"I'm… I'm trying." He finally managed, Toshio's forehead pressing hard against the back of his head, Toshio's arm holding him so closely to him. And it was the truth – he was trying. He really was. Having to see Toshio after he found him had made him want to. Having his parents back in the house after their trip had made him want to. He still felt mostly miserable. He still felt like dying a lot. But he wanted to give it all a second try even if only for all of them.

"I'm trying." He repeated it, attempting to assure both himself and Toshio that his efforts did mean something. He didn't want to go talk it over with some stranger. It was hard enough to even think about it himself, to even just have these very short conversations with Toshio about it. Some unknown person in a well-lit room thirty-five kilometers away? Impossible.

"Seishin…" Toshio sighed it, and dropped his head slightly, resting it against the back of Seishin's neck. Seishin could feel his eyelashes distinctly, and could also feel his face heat suddenly at the close contact. It was as if he'd just noticed how intimate the moment was, Toshio almost embracing him from behind, chest against back, groin against rear, legs tangled. And he it wasn't just his skin that was heating up from it all.

Nervousness blossomed quickly, and he broke away from Toshio, rolling quickly out of the futon. He stood up, feeling somewhat dizzy, and made for the door. Toshio had sat up, and yelled after him, but he did not listen, bursting into the hall. Toshio swore under his breath and followed him into the hallway, "What are you doing?"

Seishin went down the hall, refusing to look back, Toshio following swiftly at his heels. In front of Mrs. Ozaki's door, Toshio managed to get a fistful of pajamas, and hissed, "Wait!" But Seishin pulled loose, gave a pointed look to the door beside them, and continued on. He had to leave. He just had to.

In the downstairs hall, Toshio managed to catch him again, "Seishin, what are you doing?"

Seishin wheeled around sharply, "This means more to me than it does to you!"

"What?" The doctor's confusion was clear, and Seishin's face burned; he began to walk again, unhappiness bubbling up from within. He really didn't want to have this conversation, and he was upset with himself for even saying what he'd already said.

But Toshio was like a dog with a bone, and he followed him outdoors, too. The air was still a bit warm, but the grass was damp and slippery beneath their bare feet, and Seishin felt his speed slow as he tried to avoid sliding on it.

"SEISHIN!"

He stopped, and whirled around, seizing the doctor by the lapels of his pajama shirt, and kissed him. He broke it off quickly, seeing the stunned look on Toshio's face before he turned away and attempted to hurry off. But Toshio was faster, and he felt himself being snapped back around suddenly as Toshio grabbed his wrist. He collided with him, and as they fell Toshio kissed him.

He was too shocked at first to react. But when the kiss didn't end as they hit the ground, he began to kiss him back. He wrapped his arms around the doctor, and opened his mouth to him, the kiss deepening. He felt as though he were being devoured.

The kiss subsided, both breathing hard, clinging closely to each other. The pressure was almost painful, and Seishin felt as is his bones were going to be crushed. Yet they remained like that, hearts thudding, breaths shaky, as the night went on and the morning mist began to dampen their clothes. The prospect of letting go was too frightening. To let go would be to return to reality. To let go would mean having to look each other in the face. So they simply stayed in the grass, the chirping of the crickets preventing a true silence. But they didn't sleep at all.


	4. Chapter Four

A/N: Somehow, some way, this will have a happy ending – this I promise you.

Reviews are always loved.

Happy Endings Are All the Same:

Chapter Four

He spent the day in a daze, distracted from his work to the point that the other clinic workers noticed. He shrugged off their queries easily enough, but remained fully fixed in a fog. He found that the nurses were sending less of the patients on to him than usual, and felt a twinge of annoyance. Did they really think he was incapable of doing his own job? He was thinking about other things, but it wasn't impossible to focus on a patient when they were in the room…

They had separated at dawn, as the distant noise of tractors floated up to them and the night insects' songs faded away. His head hurt slightly, and his pajamas were soaked, clinging uncomfortably to his skin. He had gotten up without a word and gone indoors, and up the stairs to change. He had expected Seishin to follow him, and when he realized he still hadn't, he'd gone back outdoors, only to find the other man gone. The grasses were bent where they'd lain, the only evidence that he'd been there at all. He'd cursed softly; where had he gone? And why had he himself been stupid enough to assume that Seishin would simply automatically follow him?

He'd felt that heart hammering through the dark hours as he'd slowly sobered up. He was surely home dwelling on it, turning it over and over in his mind and taking the worst possible view on it, steadily convincing himself of the least favorable potential truth.

Toshio chewed at a cigarette, sitting in the gazebo, gazing at the woods. Well, it wasn't as if he knew for sure whether Seishin should have a negative or positive view on it. He didn't rightly know why he'd kissed him, anyway. He'd been drinking… that Seishin had kissed him had caught him fully off-guard. But if he let him get away… well, wouldn't that have been the end of Seishin?

He was trying. That was what he'd told him. That he was trying. But if he was trying, then that also meant that he still felt suicidal to some degree, didn't it?

So maybe he'd kissed him to keep him from running away. Because he didn't want Seishin to die. Seishin was…

He sighed, and rubbed at his eyes. Seishin was a good friend. They'd known each other their whole lives. He couldn't even remember when they'd met. His earliest memory of the priest was of the two building a snowman when they were either four or five years old. It was such a lumpy looking snowman. They'd even gone to the trouble of sneaking an extra scarf from the closet to wrap around its neck.

Toshio lit his cigarette, finally, inhaling deeply. It was a bad habit for a doctor, wasn't it? And his own father had died of lung cancer…

Seishin, Seishin, Seishin.

Well, he couldn't leave it alone forever, he supposed. Although he wasn't sure what his next move could or would be. Why had he kissed him back? Maybe it was the empty marital bed. He couldn't even imagine the sensation of her hands any more. Did such things really fade so quickly?

He sat very still for a moment, trying to recall the feeling of Kyouko that last time. He could picture her face, even imagine the sound of her breathing, but the physical aspect was gone. He sighed and gave up.

There had been no calls from the temple, so at the very least he knew that Seishin was safe. But the sun was dipping further and further towards the horizon, and the other man had yet to appear. He got the distinct feeling that he probably wasn't going to at all.

He picked another cigarette out of the box in his front pocket, at a loss of what to do with the empty hours between himself and bed. Well, dinner, there was one thing. Reading. There was another. No sake. Sake alone was always a terrible idea. Although if his mother happened along it could be the only thing to keep him sane…

Later in the kitchen, he did end up going to the cabinet for sake. His mother had come in as he'd sat at the table, picking at the last of his dinner and slowly making his way through a pot of barley tea. He held a copy of one of Seishin's books, frowning. If he was going to be honest, he didn't really like them very much. They were well-written, but so unpleasant. But he kept at it anyway; at least it sort of felt like he was doing something about the whole situation. He could convince himself that he was making some kind of effort.

Mrs. Ozaki made a face when she saw the book's cover, the author's name prominently displayed beneath the title. She also clicked her tongue, her tell-tale sign of annoyance. It was at this that Toshio noticed her. He placed the book page-down on the table, and stood, carrying his cup with him as he went to the cabinet.

He started to make his way back to the table, but his mother held out her hand, a sour look upon her face. He heard himself sighing again, and fetched another cup, then poured her a bit of sake, too. He'd avoided offering her any himself because he had hoped she'd leave him alone if he just ignored her. So much for dreams.

Her expression smoothed slightly after sipping at the sake, and Toshio resumed his reading. She stood, leaning against the counter, and even managed for a moment to look softer overall, too. But she had hardly been blessed with the voice of an angel, and the image shattered when she finally spoke, "What was all that racket last night about?"

Toshio merely shrugged, and Mrs. Ozaki narrowed her eyes at him, "Don't be stupid. I heard your voice and then a lot of noise in the hallway before someone slammed the front door."

"It was nothing."

"Sure lot of noise for nothing." She sniffed. He ignored her.

"And this morning – I heard you come in so early! You just stomped right up the stairs and down the hall. Why on earth were you outside so early?" She sipped some more of the sake, then looked at him sharply, "Did it have something to do with that priest?"

"He has a name." He said coolly, turning a page in the book.

"Well, I wouldn't rightly know it, he's your… friend, not mine. You've been spending so much time with him lately…"

Toshio cocked an eyebrow, unwillingly, but resisted the urge to fix her with a glare, his eyes locked firmly onto the pages, "And?"

Her face was sour-looking again, "You know I've never been crazy about him. What's wrong with him, anyway? You got married, and so did Mikiyasu, but I've never even seen him look twice at a woman! He doesn't seem to take his responsibilities very seriously… I've always liked his parents, but it seems that they should've taken in one his cousins a while back."

He chewed at the inside of his mouth, the side away from his mother. He was trying to breathe easily, to not start a shouting match with her. He knew it was fruitless. But it had always been so hard to ignore her when she was being nasty about other people. Nasty about her own son? Fine. But the clinic workers? The villagers? Seishin? It had always struck a nerve when she did that, although he'd learned better over the years to put it out of mind. Especially with his father gone she seemed to relish arguments. Better to not give her what she was looking for at all.

Mrs. Ozaki finished her sake, and placed the cup down on the counter, sighing loudly, "Of course, I suppose I can't talk! Here's my own son, picked such a terrible wife and ended up being abandoned by her. Twenty-eight years old and needs a new wife…"

She frowned, coming to sit at the table across from him, "You just need to get it over with and divorce her. I can't very well start looking for new marriage candidates for you while you're still married, after all. And you shouldn't be spending all that time with that priest! You could at least be spending time with some of the young women around here, too! Isn't there still one of the daughters of the construction company who is unmarried? I think she just finished college in Tokyo this past spring, so I'm sure she's home now…"

He drained his sake, and banged the cup back in the table, "I'm not interested in marriage candidates." He pushed his chair back and started to stand, sweeping his cup onto his empty plate, putting the used fork beside it.

"Toshio! You need to give up on that woman! It's already been five months, she isn't coming back!"

He smirked, "Hey, mother, maybe we can adopt a cousin, then, too."

He dropped his dish and cup into the sink, letting it clatter loudly. Mrs. Ozaki was slowly turning red with anger, her knuckles whitening as she gripped at her cuffs, "You need to start acting more seriously! I let you marry that woman, and you were permitted to go play around at that big city university, but you need to accept your duties and grow up!"

Toshio turned away, headed for the door. He'd had enough of it and felt a weariness suddenly overtaking him. His book still lay on the table, but it didn't matter; he could just retrieve it in the morning, there was plenty to read upstairs.

"And no more of that priest sleeping over here! I've put up with you acting like a middle schooler enough, and I'm sick of it! You aren't twelve years old any more, and you need to get over it! What are you doing, a grown man having sleepovers?"

He walked swiftly away, leaving her shouts behind him, and made his way heavily up the stairs. A vein pulsed steadily in his cheek as he tightly gritted his teeth. He was angry – angry at her words, but also angry that she'd managed to bother him this much. He liked to think he was good at simply taking it all in stride and blocking out whatever she said. They didn't have to agree or listen to each other to live together, after all. In the summertime in particular they saw very little of each other; it was the most peaceful time of the year and had been ever since his father had died.

But she was right. What _were_ two grown men doing having sleepovers every single night? What was he doing holding a grown man's hand every night, then sharing his bed with a grown man every night? He rubbed at his stubble in frustration, opening the door to his room. He snapped the overhead light on, and fell into the chair by the window, his thoughts all astir.

Well, he hadn't given Seishin the wrong idea, that much was clear. He'd essentially said that in the front hall, yelling at him that it had all meant more to him than it had to Toshio… but then he'd gone and kissed him. So, maybe he had ended up sending the wrong message after all.

Or not. Seishin had left after he left him in the grass, and he hadn't returned for after dinner tea or drinks, nor had he appeared to come back to bed once again. On an impulse, he squinted out the window, scanning for signs of anyone. But the grounds were empty, the only bit of life a raccoon making its way across the moonlit grass and dirt.

He pounded on the windowsill suddenly, his anger reigniting. He'd screwed up. He'd really, really screwed up. First with Kyouko, now with Seishin. And he'd let them both just slip away, too, Seishin twice now.

But he just didn't know what to do.


	5. Chapter Five

A/N: I'm not entirely happy with the symmetry of having a chapter with Muroi angsting over the whole thing and then talking with his mother right after a chapter of Ozaki having done the same… but it seems unavoidable for things to happen in the order I'd like for them to. And I definitely want a conversation between Muroi and Mrs. Muroi, so…

Oh, and I used a Japanese term here instead of the English language equivalent. Normally I would shy away from doing so since fanfics with tons of Japanese littered throughout are annoying to read (and often the Japanese is used incorrectly anyway), but it fit better here than any of the English language equivalents.

Darlings, if you're going to take the time to read this, and I'm going to take the time to write it, maybe you could take just a couple more minutes of time to leave a review for it?

Happy Endings Are All the Same:

Chapter Five

If the nights had often seemed very long when he'd stayed with Toshio, his first night back in his own bed seemed impossibly so. Seishin found himself repeatedly jerked out of the edge of sleep by moving in the bed and feeling no other person there. His hand felt cold, too. But, most of all, his mind was plagued with the events of the night before and the unpleasant sensation of his clothes slowly growing damp as they lay in the grass. When the birds began to chirp outside his window, he gave up on sleep entirely.

He wrote early, beginning with a lamp that he extinguished as the sun's rays began to slant into the windows. But he wasn't happy with what he wrote, and the pages kept getting balled up and tossed out of reach. It wasn't that what he wrote wasn't good – it just seemed simply too revealing. He felt the fear of writing too much of himself into his work snapping at him, mocking him. The notion of someone reading it and realizing so much about himself was an awful one.

When he finally bathed and dressed for the day, there was a small snowfall of crumpled paper littering the floor. They crunched under his feet as he left the room. Neither he nor his father had ever gotten particularly good at tying their own obi. But, then again, they'd never been expected to, either.

But, then again, he'd been expected to have a wife to do this for him by now.

She was in the kitchen already, as usual. Mrs. Muroi was an early riser; always had been, but had become even more of one since Seishin's father had had a stroke. She woke early to check on him, while Seishin would usually check on him before he went to bed at night. They would help him to the bathroom if necessary, get him anything he needed. Watching his mother quietly as he stood in the door to the kitchen, Seishin marveled that she was strong enough to get him to the bathroom; she looked so elegant… delicate, even. But he knew she had the arms of a farmer's wife underneath her kimono's sleeves.

Seishin touched his hair unconsciously. He wondered if he looked the same to others; he'd gotten his own looks from her, and he knew it had been a point of some amusement in the village to see that. Especially when the resemblance seemed to only strengthen over the years instead of lessen. He looked like a Muroi, though, that was for sure. Maybe he looked more like his mother and female cousins than like his uncles or grandfather, but he was definitely a Muroi.

He finally spoke, realizing he'd been standing in the doorway for a few moments already, "'kaa-san."

She turned around, a soft look on her face, and he briefly wondered if she used the soft smile like he did.

"Ah, Seishin, you're up. There's some breakfast on the table; let me tie that for you."

She said almost exactly the same thing every morning, but it never struck him as being simply mindless repetition. It was just that they had a fairly regular routine; she always made the family breakfast, and she always had to tie his obi before he could do anything else. A few years ago he had joined this ritual; back then, his father had gone first. But now he only wore yukata, and so he didn't need any help. His breakfast was brought to him earlier than Seishin ate, too.

He'd felt some trepidation that first time he had entered the kitchen for this routine. He'd felt nervous at the idea of taking on this role of the younger priest. And he'd also felt… trapped. As if the obi being tied was a straitjacket. He was being tied to Sotoba. There was no more option for anything else. He was a real adult. And he had real obligations. So long, youthful days.

He still felt this way often, although it was tinged with much more resignation than it had when he had been younger. It'd been five years already, almost six. It was too tiring to get tensed up over it all every morning.

So even as his trepidation had grown over the previous year, snaked around him more and more tightly, really over the previous three years, he had felt increasingly passive about it. Wake up, eat, clean the temple and the grounds, visit the villagers as needed, perform the religious rites at various ceremonies, weddings, and funerals, write, sleep. Smile when necessary, say the right things. Don't look upset. Don't make your parents unhappy. Smile, now, smile.

It had been tiring. It still was. And it hadn't kept his dissatisfaction and a larger sense of despair at bay. He had supposed that if he behaved properly then he would at least be granted some tiny little corner of happiness. Or, rather, more accurately, he had supposed that this tiny little corner of happiness would be enough to sustain him. He did have a small bit of it, after all – the old church, his books. But he felt like he was drowning anyway. It wasn't enough. And it never would be.

It came into greater and greater clarity, this fact. And it had disturbed him deeply as it had. And, then, one day, he had opened the doors to catch the summer breeze, and very, very calmly ripped his wrist wide open.

But it hadn't been so sudden as that. He'd thought about it a lot before doing it. He'd thought about it enough to have waited until his parents were away. After much planning and arrangements, his mother had finally been able to bring his father to visit relatives in Yokohama. He hadn't seen them since right after his stroke when he'd still been unintelligible in the hospital room. And he hadn't seen his hometown since years before that.

"Seishin."

He felt himself come out of a haze, his mother standing in front of him, his robes safely secured and a look of mild concern on her face. He blushed slightly, embarrassed for having gotten so lost in thought with her right there. His face moved easily into the usual soft smile, "Ah, sorry. I was thinking about whether I should go check on the cemetery today or not. It's been a bit of time since I think any of us have been out there. The village has been fairly healthy…"

He trailed off as she guided him gently to the breakfast table. She usually commented on the food at this point, but she was silent. He sat down, looking at her in some confusion, but forcing his face into a more neutral appearance. She gazed at him and seemed about the say something, but then she turned away, lifting the tea pot from the counter. When she placed it on the table, the worry had passed from her features, "It's supposed to be a bit cooler today, so I thought it would be a good idea to switch to hot tea."

She smiled at him again, but there was something slightly off about it. He filled his cup wordlessly.

After breakfast, he did head out for the cemetery, guiltily noting that it had been a while since anyone had bothered with it. Some of the elderly residents of the village had died during the heat of the summer, but their younger relatives had come from elsewhere to bring them to those elsewheres for burial. He touched the grave posts lightly, a real smile tugging at his lips slightly; there was something humorous about a little village being so moribund that even the dead left town.

He spent the remainder of his day keeping busy, visiting ailing residents and those recovering from illnesses and injuries. He studiously swept every last bit of the temple grounds, ignoring the protests of Kirihara, whose job it was to do such upkeep. He burned incense, tripled his prayers, visited with his father, checked the various ceremonial robes for wear and tear.

He did not think of Toshio.

He especially did not think of Toshio after dinner.

He lingered as his mother began to clear the plates, insisting on doing it himself. She protested slightly, but allowed him to take over, and she put a pot of water on to boil, one hand already feeling along the shelf for the right box as her other hand adjusted the burner on the stove.

They sometimes had tea after dinner, although lately they had done so less. He felt a little badly for that; he'd gone to his room to change into other clothes instead of staying with her. If he felt lonely, didn't it stand to reason that she did, too? His father had gotten a bit odd after the stroke, and she was old enough that her own friends didn't keep very late hours any more. And as the wife of Sotoba priest, she'd always been held a bit apart by others, too. She was too respected to gossip with.

Maybe Sotoba hadn't been what she'd dreamt of, either.

He poured the tea when it was done, and she thanked him, her pale hands wrapping quickly around the cup despite its heat. He kept his own at a slight distance, not trusting himself enough to not do the same, to not jostle it slightly so the hot liquid spilled on his hand. He folded his hands neatly on the table.

"It's so nice to have tea with you once in a while. You've been spending a lot of time with your friend lately."

"Ahh… yes, I'm sorry."

She frowned slightly, and it seemed strange on her, "Seishin, it's alright to visit a friend." She paused, "In fact… you've seemed a bit more lively lately…"

"…have I?" He said it with a note of genuine surprise in his voice, unaware that his behavior had altered perceptibly at all over the course of the month or so.

"Oh, Seishin…" She looked a bit unhappy now, and she clasped one of her hands over his, looking suddenly very tired and a bit old. She lapsed into silence, looking at him, and he felt that he could not manage to say anything at all. His mind stuttered along, failing to find anything to say to change the shape of the conversation, to steer it back to gentler waters, to remove that worry from his mother's face. He felt a strong urge to stand up and leave, to go and change, to go back to the clinic. To make her think that he was feeling fine.

She finally spoke again, "I'm sorry." She smiled sadly now, "You've never been very happy here, have you?"

He blinked strongly, rapidly, "'kaa-san, that's…"

"Oh, Seishin… you don't have to pretend otherwise. I always knew you didn't really want to stay here… you weren't exactly quiet about it when you were in high school." She bit her lip for a moment, "We… I… even though I knew, I let you do this to yourself… let you take all of this on and become unhappy…"

She touched his face, "I just wish I'd said something sooner…"

He gripped the hand she'd laid against his face tightly now, a sense of despair beginning to creep into him. So he had failed even in this; she'd known all along.

"'kaa-san… it's alright… I'm the one who went along with it…"

"No; we could've done more, your father and I. We could've adopted one of your cousins, one of the ones who wanted to go into the priesthood. Your father wasn't a Muroi, after all; he was adopted into the family when we were married since my parents had only daughters."

Seishin smiled slightly, "But I'm a son, not a daughter."

She looked away, and when she responded, it was barely audible over the crickets outdoors, "But there may've been an heir if you had been a daughter, wouldn't there?"

He dropped her hand, and felt the air go out of him.

When he remembered to breathe again, she was embracing him, and he was reminded distantly of her doing so so often when he had been a child.

"Oh, Seishin, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it like that."

His mouth had gone dry, and he could hardly whisper, "'kaa-san…"

Her grip around him loosened, "I'm so sorry, Seishin…" She moved back slightly, her arms still around his shoulders. She looked worn out, but she looked him straight in the face, "But, Seishin… please, I want you to know… I… I don't care. You're my son. You're my son."

His resolve died at that, and he found himself beginning to cry. She held him close again, and he clung to her now, abandoning any attempts to do otherwise.

When one of her hands caught his wrist, he felt frightened, and he tensed slightly even as he kept crying.

"Seishin, Seishin, I just want for you to be happy."

He cried harder, and he heard her sob.

And then the thought lodged in his mind: I just want to be happy.


	6. Interlude: Mrs Muroi

A/N: Short interlude time.

It'd be kind of cool if all of you who are reading this would actually take the time to give me some feed-back…

Interlude: Mrs. Muroi

Mrs. Muroi was not a stupid woman. But she also was not a blunt one, either, or, rather, was not one anymore. And so she had not uttered a short string of words she would've liked to as her son had left the house.

He seemed a little more at ease with her, and for that she was happy. He'd been such a distant young man since he'd returned from college; she knew he was trying desperately to protect both herself and his father. But it had been foolish to try to block the truth from view – she was his mother. Of course she would know.

She regarded the hills as she drank her tea. There had always been something lovely about them, as dark as they were. She didn't mind them so much. If anything, she preferred having them pressing in, enjoyed the fact that the temple itself was surrounded by the tall, tall trees that made the hills so dark. Sometimes she could close her eyes and pretend she was the only person alive in the world…

She opened her eyes again, heard the distant murmur of the temple workers. The world was not an empty place.

Seishin. When she looked at him, it was distressingly like looking at herself. Of course, there were differences. The angles in his face were sharper. But she had been a tomboy once upon a time, with stubbornly short hair, and she sometimes found her breath catching when she looked at him, an intense sense that she'd somehow fallen back in time forty years, was somehow watching her younger self.

Her hair had been a reason for consternation amongst her parents. Too short. And maybe they were right to be bothered by it. Yet it hadn't mattered, had it? Her elder sister had died, her father, too. A terrible train crash. She was supposed to have had a marriage meeting… there had been no sons, they had needed to find a man who was reliable and devout. A man who was a Buddhist priest, or training to be one, and whom somehow wasn't tied to a temple already.

So she went in her sister's place. They had no head priest. They were married by the end of spring.

She grew her hair out. It wasn't so bad. Her husband was a good man, and she had felt so happy when Seishin was born. And her own mother had smiled, then. She had touched her grandson softly on the cheek, and spoke with genuine warmth, "Ah, he looks just like a Muroi…"

And he still did. And so did she; she had taken after her father, not her mother. And her son had taken after his mother, not his father. There was a neat pattern in it.

She had found a bit of happiness along the way. She'd been a loud child, a quiet adult. And she allowed fate to take its hold of her, duty, too. But she'd managed to find herself an even sort of keel. She could close her eyes and smell only the hills and the trees.

She could see her son's form, so distant now, as he made his way along one of the roads, steadily going toward the clinic. And she whispered it into her teacup, because there was no one around to hear.

"Beware of married men."


	7. Chapter Six

A/N: I have nothing to say this time around. If you're wondering where the sex is and when it'll happen, in the meantime I would tell you to go check out my smut-fest, The Bicycle Paths of Sotoba. There's some BL smut in that one.

I've given up on pointing out that authors like having feedback (e.g. reviews), since it obviously has no affect on any of my readers.

Happy Endings Are All the Same:

Chapter Six

He'd gone around to the back of the clinic to where Toshio's office was, shading his eyes from the sun so he could look inside. But the office was empty, and he frowned, his will wavering slightly in the face of such an obstacle. He was leery of entering the clinic itself, just as he was always leery of knocking on the door of the residence portion in the evenings. Seishin felt he was fairly good at handling the villagers in general, but Mrs. Ozaki managed to unnerve him in a way that no one else truly could. It seemed she was the only person in Sotoba who disliked him, and he could feel it keenly whenever he was in her presence.

So he was a bit put off at the idea of going into the clinic, knowing that there was even a slight chance she would happen to surface when he went in the door. He hesitated, the strong rays from above heating his shoulders under the blackness of his robes. The weather was beginning to shift toward autumn, but the sun had yet to begin its departure with the solstice.

Something drove him around the building to the front, and he walked into the clinic with more ease than he would've thought possible. Mrs. Ozaki was not in sight, and the receptionist looked up, a smile lighting his face when he saw the priest standing there, "Ah, priest! What brings you here?"

It frustrated a bit to feel his own lips settling into his usual soft smile, but he let it happen nevertheless, "I was passing by, and I thought that I would say hello to the doctor."

"Oh, unfortunately the doctor is out on a house call. It seems that Hitohara's arthritis has been bad again, and he couldn't drive himself or walk over here." The receptionist shook his head, "I feel so sorry for the poor man. It's getting to be the harvest season, and he can't even tend to his own fields!"

"Ah, that's too bad to hear… perhaps I will stop by to see him as well later today."

"Of course, of course; I'm sure it would lift his spirits at least a little."

"Mm, perhaps…"

He bit roughly at his own tongue, feeling guilty. He doubted that he would go to visit Hitohara, despite his stated intent. Maybe to-morrow. But he was feeling defeated, and knew he'd probably simply go right back to the temple, and probably up the hill further to the church. He could go to see Hitohara to-morrow…

"Well, he left a while ago, so maybe the doctor will be back soon – I could fetch you some tea or something if you'd like to wait?"

"Ah, no, that's fine." He smiled again, "I had just thought I'd say hello since I was nearby anyway."

"Ok, well, I'll mention that you were here."

"Thank you." He dipped his head slightly, and then turned away, his hand already reaching for the handle of the door, his previous sense of determination dying away rapidly.

He could see the temple from where he walked on the roads, sitting up amongst the trees, gazing down on the village with empty eyes. The wind had been torn from his sails utterly, and he couldn't help but feel mildly ashamed for it. But it had taken a lot of effort on his own part to make his way to the clinic, to overcome his own disinclination to take such action. He hadn't known what he was going to do once he'd gotten there; it'd been beyond his abilities to think that far ahead. Once the idea of going to see Toshio instead of waiting for things to happen had occurred to him, he'd known he had to act immediately, lest he let the moment pass and his doubts take over. So he'd started moving at that very instant, had walked quickly, had refused to think of anything but of the action of walking and of the distance he had to go.

He found his pace now slowed, those same doubts he'd managed to avoid beginning to slip into his consciousness. And he was now at a loss; he didn't think he could traverse that path again. He thought of the receptionist and wondered if he would tell Toshio that he'd been there. And he wondered if that would make any difference to Toshio at all.

When he passed into the shadows of the trees, he shivered slightly, unsure if it was the slight change in temperature or the fact that he was nearing his own personal trap once again. He considered his mother's words… he'd actually considered them for most of the previous night. It had put him at somewhat more of an ease to know that she'd figured it out on her own, although he felt guilty, too, for having failed to mask things better. But it made him feel closer to her than he had in years, so he appreciated that, felt more comfortable somehow, even if he could not wholly shake that lurking sense of guilt.

Her statement about an heir had shocked him, though. He hadn't known her to be so blunt. It had left him completely incapable of breathing or thought initially. But he supposed that she probably couldn't have put it any other way, too. Because what would've been less blunt than that, yet still possessing clarity? He couldn't see her, either, having asked him the exact question itself…

He felt himself touching his hair again for the second time in as many days, and thinking on their similar appearance. He remembered the pictures from old photo albums he'd paged through so gleefully as a child, excited for the chance to see what his mother had looked like when she was a kid, too. Her hair had been short in all those pictures, and he saw that it was only long in pictures after his parents' marriage. When he'd looked at those photos again years later, he'd been struck by how much his mother looked like he did in the few pictures from the wedding. He remembered Toshio leaning heavily over his shoulder, and smirkingly saying how it could've just been Seishin himself wearing the dress. His face had gone red at that, and he'd jabbed Toshio in the ribs sharply, telling him off for insulting his mother.

So which was it, then? Had she been a masculine woman, or was he a feminine man?

He shook his head. It didn't really matter, did it? But he would've liked to have met his mother back when she was that girl with the short hair in those photos, grinning widely as she stumbled her way through that distant world.

When he reached the temple, he went inside, headed for his room. The church was the ultimate destination, but Seishin could feel a certain itch in his fingers which demanded paper and pen. It would hardly be the first time he'd retreated to the church in order to write; it was where he'd done most of his writing when he'd been in high school, when he was quietly working at making something worthwhile. He'd felt less self-conscious when he wrote there.

The house was quiet, the only sound that of clocks and his father's slight snores as he took his afternoon nap. His mother was probably resting herself, enjoying a bit of tea to go along with her reading. She tried to do so when his father was asleep so that she could keep him company when he was awake and she was not attending to anything else. Seishin tread carefully so as not to disturb either.

At the door to his room, he paused for a moment, letting out a light sigh. He felt tired; he had slept poorly the night before, and the night prior to that as well. In fact, it had seemed he had not been sleeping well at all as of late, and he couldn't help but feel he was about to have another restless time ahead of him once the dinner plates were carried away and the moon carried itself over the horizon.

He slid the door open, banishing the notion, but stopped short as he stepped into the room. The outside door was open, the room bright and breezy. Toshio leaned back to look at him, quickly replacing his cautious look with a cocky one. He held up a bottle of plum wine, grinning, "Long time, no see, eh?"


	8. Chapter Seven

A/N: Fun fact – I listened to Rihanna's Disturbia on repeat all through writing this. I find the beat to be good background when writing things; I used to listen to this song when I was in school when writing research papers. I had to, because overheard conversations proved too distracting otherwise, but the beat was insistent enough that the lyrics never distracted me.

Happy Endings Are All the Same:

Chapter Seven

While Seishin gripped his chopsticks too tightly and spoke little throughout the meal, from Toshio's view dinner was not quite that tense. But he had no knowledge of the conversation that had passed between mother and son the day before, so it was easy for him to settle in and enjoy the meal. Mrs. Muroi was a source of relief, for she inquired along the lines of regular, polite conversation. How was his mother? How was the clinic? She'd heard that Ritsuko had just started working there after finishing school in Kyoto; was she doing well? And, unlike the other villagers, she was hardly rude enough to have meant anything with a wink and a nudge by that.

Little did he know, it had more do with concern for her own son than with manners. Not that she would've been rude enough either way to ask.

So Toshio enjoyed the meal thoroughly, appreciating the gap it gave him between the nervous half hour he'd spent sitting in the doorway of Seishin's room and the uncomfortable conversation he was anticipating. He could sit and eat the food he was served, speaking of light things with a childhood friend's mother. He found himself much more at ease speaking with her than he did with his own mother. In another world, where she wasn't Seishin's mother, he could even see himself discussing the barest outlines of what was going on between himself and the priest. He would've trusted her input.

But. She was Seishin's mother. So he remained silent on that topic.

So they discussed the clinic and the temple and the village and the food. Mrs. Muroi apologized for the meal not being larger, as she had only been expecting to have two at dinner, not three. And when he tried to insist that he was sorry for just showing up unannounced, she had waved away his concerns, insisting that she always welcomed company at the table. After all, it was only she and her son generally, so it was pleasant to have a third diner. The elder priest ate earlier than they did since he tired so quickly.

Seishin, meanwhile, added little to the conversation, the tips of his fingers going numb from the strength with which he held his chopsticks. He chewed his food too thoroughly, and barely tasted it at all. He knew his mother wouldn't say anything, but he felt on edge by having them interact nevertheless. And he felt entirely self-conscious of his own interaction with Toshio with her there, as if she were taking note of every little word he uttered to the doctor.

And, of course, what she would think once they retired to his own room…

When Mrs. Muroi got up to clear the table, Toshio had leapt up and started helping her, ignoring her admonishment of his being the guest and not subject to such things. Seishin quietly watched them. He could feel his thoughts drifting toward daydreams, sense that he could very easily become used to this. He quickly forgot how tense he'd felt through the meal, seeing only what was before him.

He snapped out of it, though, when his mind was drawn to his mother's comment about adoption the evening before. His mother had said she was fine with it all, but that didn't mean anyone else be. Including Toshio.

He made a pot of tea while the other two finished washing the dishes, now discussing the changes that were being made to the high school uniforms. Mrs. Muroi had liked the previous ones, which had not changed since Seishin and Toshio had been in high school. Toshio voiced a dislike for them, saying that they were too hot in the summertime and looked old fashioned. Mrs. Muroi admitted that her own uniform had been a simple sailor-style one. Seishin didn't bother to mention that he'd felt the uniform's old-fashioned style as one more factor indicating that Sotoba was a dying, stagnant place, as yet another thing holding him down. Altering them was just putting a fresh coat of paint on a moldering wall.

After they finished in the kitchen, they retired to Seishin's room, the bottle of plum wine glinting in the early moonlight as they re-entered the room, Toshio carrying the cups for tea and Seishin the teapot. Toshio went to the outside door immediately, and picked up the wine. He thudded himself down by the writing table, and easily poured wine into the cups. Seishin frowned, but set the teapot down by the door, already knowing it was probably destined merely to cool with the night air. He rose up again to go shut the door to the hall, his hands having been previously too occupied to do so. As it slid shut, the air currents in the room died down slightly, the breeze no longer whistling so easily through one door and out the other.

As he turned back to Toshio, his hand lingered against the edge of the doorway. He ceased movement for a moment, looking at Toshio, who had gone from examining the bottle to finally looking up. They looked at each other, but said nothing.

Seishin moved his hand decisively, suddenly, and the light switch was flicked into the off position, the room in instant darkness. He could hear his own breath rattling already, and he forced himself to breathe more steadily as his eyes adjusted. It wasn't completely dark, after all; even if the moon had only just risen, it illuminated part of the room with its pale glow. He could see Toshio's outline easily, the bottle, the cups, the teapot, too.

Toshio clicked his fingernails uneasily against the surface of the desk, breathing through his nose. He cleared his throat to break the lengthening silence, then spoke, "If you don't come sit down to drink this, it's going to warm up and be nasty." He grinned, making a show of bravado, although he knew Seishin probably couldn't see his facial expression. He took a sip from his own cup, then proffered the second. He watched the priest shift closer, beginning to stoop low as he did so to sit. Their fingers touched briefly, but Seishin took the cup quickly, thanking him, and sat pointedly on the other side of the desk.

Toshio drained his cup quickly in the silence, banging it down on the desk, and sloshed more of the plum wine into the cup. It wasn't necessarily that he did want more; if anything, drinking plum wine quickly made his lips twist at the sweetness... but the noise of his movements kept the room from being completely quiet. He couldn't stand just sitting there without talking. Lying there together all through that speechless night had been bad enough. So he shifted around unnecessarily, too, trying to drive off any buzzing from his ears.

He scowled, Seishin having lapsed into full inaction, "Aren't you going to drink any of that? Holding it in your hands isn't going to help things much either, is it?"

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize."

But the priest put the cup down, and shook his head slightly, "I don't think I really want any…"

Toshio shrugged, drinking his own, "Well. Fine. You don't have to."

"But you did bring it over here to share…"

"Yeah, but if you don't even want any, you should just let me drink it. I want to drink it."

Seishin pushed his cup over to the other side of the desk now, "Well, then you can have this cup, too."

Toshio picked up the cup, and made an action to dump the wine out the door. But Seishin uttered a short cry, reaching as if to halt him from throwing it out. "What are you doing?" He asked, sounding bewildered.

"I'm dumping it out so you can use the cup for your tea. That's obviously what you wanted to drink in the first place, right?" He sounded irritated, his own earlier nervousness bleeding into frustration.

Seishin dropped his hand, drawing his arm back toward himself, "But you shouldn't just waste it. I can wait until you're done. I'm not really that thirsty anyway, I just didn't want to be rude…"

The doctor dropped the cup back onto the desk, annoyed. He had an insistent urge to reach across the surface to throttle the priest, an insistent urge to kick the teapot out the door, to hurl the wine after it. But he reached for the cup again and drained it instead, biting down on the inside of his cheek in an effort to not say something rash. Patience is a virtue. Patience is a virtue.

He could feel the alcohol already working slowly toward his head. Which had been part of the idea. If he could just work his own guard down… well, although he'd been hoping to get Seishin's down more. He knew the other man didn't drink very much. And while Toshio could bluster his way through saying difficult things, he only knew his friend to after being pushed just about to the edge. Like had happened that last night Seishin had stayed at the clinic.

He briefly envisioned himself forcing the wine down Seishin's throat before dismissing the notion as absurd. It would never work.

He pushed the full cup back across the desk again, "Drink it." He could feel Seishin staring at him in disbelief, but he inched it further forward still, "Drink it, or I'm leaving."

Seishin continued to stare, but the wine was beginning to loom exceedingly close to the edge. He picked it up, if only to stop it from falling over the edge. He started to bring it to his lips, but then frowned, stopped. He put it back down again, firmly, and looked Toshio in the face, "No. I don't want to."

Toshio was surprised, and then annoyed, "Then don't make like you will." He rubbed his face tiredly, "What are we even arguing about? This is stupid…"

He eased upwards, standing, and reached a hand out for Seishin, feeling a bit light-headed from the movement, "C'mere…"

Seishin regarded him with a slight look of suspicion, but took his hand and allowed himself to be pulled up. He felt a twist in his stomach as Toshio guided him around the furniture, and then fell clumsily onto the futon he'd neglected to roll up in his rush earlier that day. Toshio was embracing him now, his face buried in his chest, a sigh escaping his lips, "I'm not so young as I once was, am I?"

Seishin smiled slightly at this, trying to loosen Toshio's grip, "You sound like an old man…"

"I _am_ an old man… running that damn clinic, getting henpecked by own mother, one marriage already behind me…"

"Behind you?"

"Well, maybe not officially…" He groaned, shutting his eyes tightly.

Seishin stopped trying to push Toshio away, and they were quiet for a few moments. Toshio remained with his face pressed against Seishin, feeling comfortable with his arms wrapped around him. He willed his mind completely blank. It was better to not think about it.

"Hey… Toshio…"

"Mm, yeah?"

"Toshio… what are you doing?"

He shifted slightly to look up at Seishin, and then dropped his face back to the priest's chest, his voice slightly muffled, "I don't know…"

"Ah…"

"What are you doing?"

"…I'm not really sure…"

"…why's your foot twitching?"

Seishin swallowed and Toshio could feel it. He shifted his gaze away from Toshio, embarrassed, "I'm… nervous…"

"Oh."

Seishin started to move away from Toshio again, "I need to close the door…"

"No you don't."

"All the bugs will get in."

"We'll be fine."

"…you're staying, then."

"Yeah…"

"…Toshio… what are we doing?"

"I don't know…"

"Ah…"

Toshio let go of Seishin, and scooted up in the futon. He pressed his forehead against the other man's, and licked his lips nervously, tasting the wine again, "Hey, Seishin… just… let it happen…"


	9. Chapter Eight

A/N: Guess what? There will be some smut in the next chapter. This may seem like I am being nice. But, actually, I'm telling you that now in order to torture you with the knowledge that you'll have to wait for it! HA.

Oh, yeah, some more Japanese suffixes in here, but only since Ozaki always calls Ritsuko 'Ritsu-chan' all the time.

Happy Endings Are All the Same:

Chapter Eight

He was smoking in the gazebo, as was his wont to do on his lunch break. He still felt a ghost of nausea from what he'd had to drink the night before, and there was also a lingering stiffness in his limbs. It may've been comfortable to lie like that with Seishin while awake, but it had done him no favors to remain like that in sleep. He'd woken early, the light coming in the open door. And then…

Well. He'd made Seishin upset.

So he'd stretched in his absence, and then left out the outside door, slipping back to the clinic and a hot shower. He'd even brought the partially empty wine bottle with him, too, shoved it to the back of the cabinet so that his own mother wouldn't notice and question it. Let her stay in the dark about it all. There was probably an argument brewing about that soon enough.

Seishin had been hard.

He took a drag on his cigarette, leaning his head back as he breathed out again. He'd become hard in the bed when Toshio had dragged him there, the alcohol sloshing through his bloodstream. But he'd been too tipsy to take much note of it, had preferred to just let things roll along as they would. And maybe he'd felt secure in the fact that he knew Seishin would remain silent on the matter himself. That twitching foot… he had been too nervous.

But in the morning…

It had faded during the night, he had felt Seishin slackening, even as that foot had kept up its own cadence. He'd fallen asleep before that had stopped, and had almost been surprised to wake up and find its movement absent, although Seishin was awake when he woke up. He could tell by the way he was breathing, the tension in his muscles. He was flush against the other man, after all. And he'd been hard again.

Well. It made sense. Seishin was an adult. Seishin was a man. Seishin was… attracted to him.

But he hadn't really thought of it that way before. They'd shared a bed, he'd kissed him, they'd kissed each other, but… what were two men to do, anyway? He knew, but that wasn't it exactly. It was hard to put into concrete terms. He knew that if someone had asked him prior, he would have said that, yes, if Seishin had made a confession of love and had kissed him, had kissed him back when Toshio had kissed him, then, yes, his friend probably did want to sleep with him. But even saying that, even getting on a very basic level that that had to be the case, well… it was different than realizing it.

Maybe the priest had been right… maybe he had still been drunk in the morning…

"I could help you with that…" He murmured, the cigarette loose in his hands, his eyes still shut. What a stupid thing to say.

"Um, doctor?"

He sat up, stubbing out his cigarette on the wooden seat, and saw Ritsuko standing at the bottom of the short gazebo stairs. He hadn't even heard her approach. She had some paper in her hands, and looked at him a bit guiltily, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you."

"No, no… it's fine… I was just smoking…" He frowned, "Hey, Ritsu-chan…"

"Yes?"

He flicked the cigarette ash off of the pocked bench, the marks of previous snuffed flames all across its surface, "What do you think… of two guys?"

She looked confused, "What do I think of two guys?"

He shook his head, "No, never mind… did you need me for something?"

"Oh, the mail came. There's something here for you, from your wife… Yasuyo wanted me to give it to you. She was, ah, worried about it getting into the wrong hands…"

He stood and walked to the top of the stairs, and took it from her. It was from his wife, and the envelope seemed to be straining at the seams, the flap uneven and taped down. The return address was listed as her shop; in fact, it was the address label from her shop in Mizobe. He wasn't sure where she was living, honestly.

He placed the envelope into the pocket of his coat after considering it briefly; he'd read it after work. He had a decent idea of what it was, anyway.

"Thank you, Ritsu-chan." He smiled at her. If there was one thing he could count on, it was his nursing staff. The other clinic workers were reliable, too, but it was the nursing staff he truly felt blessed to have. Yasuyo had brought Ritsuko in when she had returned from school with her degree, and he'd been happy to hire her. She'd done a brief internship with him during one of her college breaks and had demonstrated a high degree of competency.

Yasuyo was great, too. And she would've had to have been – she had started working in the clinic when his father had run the show, and he appreciated the strength of character such an endeavor required. Toshio himself hadn't felt he possessed it; why else opt to work in the university hospital when his family ran their own practice?

But Yasuyo wasn't the only one he'd admired; when he had begun, most of his father's old staff was still working. Satoko had only been with the clinic for about a month when the elder Ozaki had died, but Yuki and Kiyomi had been his own hires after a couple of the older nurses had retired. It was almost as if his father's death had been permission for them to pass into their golden years.

Yet Yasuyo stayed on. She was quite a bit younger than her former coworkers had been, but he'd teased her about it before. She'd smiled, but given him a very serious reply – she had no intent to quit until she couldn't do her job any more. And if she couldn't do her job any more, then she wanted to be able to go teach a little bit somewhere. She was determined to use her knowledge right up until the very end.

Maybe she'd been able to work for his father for so long because they actually had quite a bit in common… there was no way that his father hadn't known that he was sick… but he'd worked up until the week before he'd died. In fact, he'd collapsed while doing an annual physical on one of the Mutou kids.

He realized he had been standing, looking down at Ritsuko in silence for a few moments, and cleared his throat, "I'll read it later. Mrs. Ookawa is supposed to be coming in for a check-up on her arthritis. Don't want to keep her waiting."

"Then I'm going to take my break now, doctor. Is that alright?"

"Of course."

They walked back to the clinic, the envelope heavy enough to remind him of its existence with every step. Well, at least it gave him an idea of what he'd be doing with part of his evening.


	10. Chapter Nine

A/N: SMUT INCOMING!

NO PUN INTENDED!

Happy Endings Are All the Same:

Chapter Nine

His face had been burning when he'd stormed out of the room, snapping the door shut behind him. In the bathroom, leaning against the sink, his face still felt hot, and he relived the moment that had barely passed.

_ "You're hard."_

_ Seishin pushed Toshio away from him, and shifted away, getting out of the futon. He felt mortified, the blush creeping rapidly up his neck. He adjusted his robes, and swallowed uneasily, "I know…"_

_ There was a pause, and Toshio spoke again, "I could help you with that…"_

_ "And you're still drunk." He said disgustedly, and left the room._

He could still see him in his mind's eye, sprawled on the bed, looking up at him, his midriff exposed. Toshio hadn't looked fully awake, and it only served to heighten the erotic edge to it all. And Seishin also knew that he was exaggerating it as he remembered it, accentuating the things he found attractive about the other man…

He needed a shower. A very, very cold shower.

He snuck a glance downward. The bulge was obvious, and he was thankful he hadn't run into his mother on his way to the bathroom. It was the older bathroom toward the back of their living quarters, but it wasn't unthinkable that he could've come across her. The mere thought of it brought a fresh wave of embarrassment over him.

What had Toshio been thinking? What a rotten joke to make. Lying there like that, with that strange smile on his face… and what would he have done, anyway, if he'd turned back to the bed, gone back to it, crawled back in? Taken his hand and guided it lower…

He realized that his own hand was slipping downwards, feeling his erection through his clothes. Envisioning Toshio instead. Naked. Nymph-like. Not Toshio-like. He felt guilt drifting into his consciousness. And, yet…

He fumbled with his robes, the ones he'd fallen asleep in the night before, exposing himself to his hand. But it was Toshio who was doing it. He wasn't still back in the bedroom. No, he was here with Seishin.

He gripped his penis, and started to stroke himself, his eyes shut. Toshio's hand around his penis, the doctor nipping at his neck lightly, pressing his bare chest against him. Toshio tipped the priest's head back with his other hand, nuzzling into his neck, trailing bites and kisses there. And now that hand dropped down, gripping Seishin's rear end tightly, fingers pressing toward the dip between his cheeks.

He pressed himself roughly against the sink, digging the porcelain into his behind. He clamped his free hand over his mouth, muffling the whining sounds coming from the back of his throat, continuing to rub.

Toshio moved away from his neck, and he eased his left hand from Seishin's butt to his hip. He stopped pumping at Seishin, and smiled wickedly when Seishin thrust forward in the absence of the friction. He removed his hand from his penis, and settled it against the other hip. Seishin thrust forward again, in his own slack hand, panting.

The doctor knelt in from of him, and he wrapped his lips around Seishin's penis, evincing a moan. He sucked at him, taking in the full length, his forehead against Seishin's stomach. He moved evenly, then withdrew to grant more attention to the head of the cock, licking eagerly.

Seishin sank to the floor of the bathroom, removing his hand from his mouth, then turning his head to the side to bite at the shoulder of his robes. His hand snaked around to his back, eased lower, grabbed his own rear, tried to draw the fabric between his fingers and his skin away.

His hand was still moving on his erection, Toshio forcing his tongue slightly into the little slit there. He gasped sharply, black cloth still clenched between his teeth. And then he was in himself, a somewhat painful sort of feeling, but a desired one nonetheless. He moved his finger, pushing further, then added a second, his breaths ragged.

Seishin rolled to his side, hands busy, the nymph still between his legs. He could feel himself coming to the edge of it all. He felt dizzy.

He pictured Toshio opening his mouth fully again, taking him in completely once again, looking at him with eyes from under lashes that were too long.

He shuddered, and felt the hot stickiness coursing into his hand, moaning roughly. He kept touching himself, though, lost in the sensation. As the spasms died down, he began to feel uncomfortable, the cold tiles beneath him, his angle against the floor awkward. He pulled his hand free from himself, let it fall by his side. His breathing was slowing, and his penis had gone limp.

Toshio.

He buried his face in the bathroom tiles and swore.


	11. Chapter Ten

A/N: So, had to think this one over for a while, but finally got back to it.

And for those of you who were wondering… that last chapter was probably the most explicit it's going to be. Which isn't to say that there won't be any more sexuality. It just won't be _quite_ that intense. It'll also be less confusing!

Oh, and another answer: this is purely AU. I suppose I wanted to give them a happily ever after that they never got in the canon. I came to care for the characters of Shiki so much while watching it. I am happy with how it ended (mostly), but I still wish they could have happy endings somehow.

Happy Endings Are All the Same:

Chapter Ten

Dinner had been even more excruciating than the night before, hemmed in by his mother and his friend, aware of his actions that morning. He'd waited a long time before returning to the room, even after he'd taken his shower, and Toshio had been gone. He'd been hoping for some respite before he had to see the other man, but he had had no such luck.

He had left them over tea, apologizing profusely and insisting that he had to do some writing before it was too late. He'd gotten behind on his manuscript – which was true enough, but he stared vacantly out the open door at the gathering fireflies instead, unable to focus. By the time Toshio walked in, he had barely written a half page.

Seishin stood up too quickly, tipping the writing desk and scattering his mostly blank pages. He dropped to his knees quickly, hastily gathering them up, searching for the pen. Toshio joined him, and handed him the elusive pen, "What's the rush for?"

Seishin put the paper and the pen back on the desk, straightening up once again, avoiding Toshio's eyes, "I… I'm going to go to bed. I have to wake up early to-morrow, and the futon hasn't been rolled out yet." He moved past Toshio, going to the bureau for pajamas, "So… I want to get that done so I'm not up so late…"

Toshio frowned, "But the futon is already out."

"I'm not sleeping in here." He said thickly, "The guest room."

He froze as her felt Toshio grasp his arm, his hands warm, "What do you mean you're not sleeping in here?"

"I…" He let his hand drop against the clothing in the open drawer, and swallowed, "I… can't."

He could feel a flush creeping up his neck, coloring his pale skin, but Toshio was saying nothing. His breathing was just barely audible, if only because the summer insects had mainly gone to their rests. The quiet season was setting in; all that would bring noise now would be the howling winter wind around the treetops and hills.

Seishin swallowed again, forced himself to speak, his voice barely louder than a whisper, "Because… if we sleep in that bed… I'll…" A pause, "I'll want to touch you… and I'll want you… to touch me…"

The grip on his arm was still tight, but he couldn't bring himself to turn and look at the other man. So he stood, gazing down into the bureau drawer, his heart pounding, a sort of misery already preparing him for the worst.

Toshio cleared his throat, almost said something, didn't. He thought back to the morning, and his thoughts at the clinic, the envelope, too, although he hadn't yet opened it.

"I know."

He blinked, surprised he'd said it, and Seishin had turned to face him, shock clear on his face. But it wasn't surprising, was it? Toshio knew that he wasn't always swift about everything, but it was pretty easy to connect the dots in all of it, wasn't it? When one is fourteen, everything means a hard-on. When one is twenty-seven? And has kissed you? And is tightly up against you, wrapped in your arms?

Seishin turned away again, refusing to look him in the eyes, "Don't do this to me…"

"I'm not trying to hurt you." He pulled him closer, his own heart racing, his mouth going dry, "Seishin, I… I'm not sure what I'm doing, but" He forced the other man to look at him, "I know that I don't want to lose you."

"Toshio… don't do this just because you're afraid of what I might do to myself." There was unhappiness clear in his voice.

"Dammit, Seishin, that's not what I'm thinking!"

"Then what is?"

"I… I don't know." He was frustrated, and he loosened his grip suddenly, "Dammit, I don't know!"

"Let go of me, Toshio." His head was angled away, and he looked uncomfortable, "I'm tired; I want to go to sleep."

"Seishin… Seishin, just look at me, okay?"

There was a hand on his face, he realized, gently bringing him to face his friend again. It stayed there, light but insistent, and he heard Toshio take a deep breath before he kissed him.

It didn't last long, but he was definitely being kissed by the doctor. When it ended, he let Toshio embrace him, could feel the hammering of the other man's heart even above his own.

"We don't have to sleep in the same bed. And I don't really know what I'm doing. But I'm not going to hurt you. Don't sleep in the guest room. Stay here." He hesitated slightly, and then added, "Please."

Although he regarded it as a moment of weakness, he said it nevertheless: "Yes."


	12. Chapter Eleven

A/N: I feel compelled to note that my fanfiction output has dropped significantly as of late as I am currently working on a real, live manuscript. Y'know… like… for a _book._ _A real book! Something with my own characters! WHOOOAAAAAA. _Yeah, my mind is blown, too!

In other words, you can expect longer wait-times between chapters, but not to worry – I'm not just dropping it =)

Happy Endings Are All the Same:

Chapter Eleven

There was a careful two feet of floor between their futon, and he couldn't help but be aware of the fact that Seishin was at the very edge of the far side of his own. It wouldn't have shocked him had Seishin stood up and dragged his futon to the wall itself, although he knew he wouldn't.

There was a nagging sense of guilt as he lay there, of knowing how selfish he was being. It wasn't that he was trying to, though. He really wasn't. It was just… just…

He didn't know. Seishin. That sense of his presence. There was something in it all, although he wasn't exactly sure of what the something was. Or, maybe, he wasn't willing to commit to whatever that something was. He felt as if he hit a wall every time he did sit to consider it, and then his mind would wander off to something else… something to do with Seishin, usually, just not… this. This lying in the same room and trying not to hear the other man breathe.

What was he doing? What had he been thinking when he'd offered to help Seishin that morning with… well, his erection? Or even the night before when he'd ended up tangled with him in bed… Toshio was old enough to figure that one could only blame so much on alcohol. Especially when there was a bit of a pattern even without.

It was a bit startling, but it occurred to him that he wanted to be in the other futon, curled up again with his friend. He flushed, and chewed at the inside of his mouth. The mid-September air had a sharp coolness to it… it'd be warmer with two…

"Hey, Seishin…"

There was a lingering lag between the question and response, one that told him Seishin was lying facing the outside door, "What?"

"Seishin…" He cleared his throat, hesitating, "Am I… the first?"

"…no."

"Oh. The second?"

"No…"

"Oh." He regarded the ceiling, "Seishin… are you…?"

"I don't know…" It was muffled, and he glanced over quickly, saw the priest's form all bunched up almost over the edge of the futon.

They lapsed into silence, the ticking of the small clock shockingly loud. Toshio cleared his throat again, drowning out the timepiece's hands, "Who?"

"Hibari-sensei… and Kazuo…"

"Wait… your room-mate Kazuo?"

"Yes, that Kazuo."

He realized he could almost hear a smile in Seishin's voice, his own mind reeling, "You lived with him for five years…"

"And we dated for four…"

"What?" He sat up, staring over, "You never said anything!"

"I wasn't sure how you'd take it…"

"Four years…"

"Yes. And then I came back here, so…"

"You broke up."

"Yes…"

"…you really do hate this place, don't you?"

Seishin shifted uncomfortably, "I didn't say that…"

"You don't have to."

"I… I liked you in high school, too."

He'd known it would derail the line of questioning, and it worked perfectly, "You didn't say anything!"

"I didn't want to be rejected."

"Did you…?"

"No. Mikiyasu sent that chocolate."

"What?"

He laughed a little, "But not like that. It was just… well, he was still a kid, and you were cool because you were older and let him hang around with us."

Toshio snorted, "He was good at sneaking alcohol from his parents' cabinet."

"You don't give yourself enough credit."

"Yeah, well…" He lay back down, pulling the blankets back up.

He didn't say anything more, lost in thought. In hindsight, that Mikiyasu had been responsible for the candy no one would claim on Valentine's Day was something he should've been able to guess at. He'd kept bugging him about it long after anyone else had, but Toshio had just assumed it was because he was so much younger – just the annoying phase thing. But Seishin was almost certainly right, he was sure; it made sense.

But sifting through his memories of Seishin in high school, even with the new knowledge, revealed nothing. He'd missed it entirely. Still did. And felt foolish for it.

Hibari-sensei… that he could see. He'd even teased him for being a teacher's pet at the time. It was the only time Seishin had ever volunteered to be a class rep. But he hadn't really thought much of it at the time. And why would he have? If it had been a woman, maybe, but it wasn't something he would've noticed.

Well, and there was the answer – it wouldn't have occurred to him that Seishin would've been interested in anyone other than girls or women. Stupid. He'd known him for something like twenty-five years, he should've noticed.

Kazuo…

Seishin had met him their freshman year because they'd had the same major. And Toshio had even been a bit jealous of how much time they'd started spending together. When had they…? They moved in together before sophomore year had started, to save money they claimed. Before that, Toshio and Seishin and some other guys from the college had lived in a run-down boarding house with four and a half tatami rooms. The new apartment had been cheaper to split and in better shape, and they were two guys, so…

How much of it had been cost? Had they been involved already, or did that come later? He resisted the urge to ask Seishin. It was probably better not to…

Kazuo. How had he missed that?

He looked over at Seishin again, could heard him breathing softly and steadily. If he'd stayed in Tokyo, would they still be together?

* * *

A/N: I hate adding a note at the end, I really do; however, I wished to address the fact that Seishin did not commit to any particular sexual orientation, instead more or less dodging the matter. I feel a bit guilty over that, as I often rattle on about the lack of gay identity in BL and yuri manga… however, given Seishin's character, I ultimately think it is more in keeping with his character for him to be noncommittal about it. So that is why I opted for his vague response.

...yeah, I still feel kind of guilty for it, though.


	13. Chapter Twelve

A/N: This ended up being such a downer chapter, and I didn't even mean for it to be D=

Trying to avoid Kimi ni todoke syndrome here, e.g. characters being too stupid for life about being attracted to each other. Muroi is such a bummer character in canon, so unfortunately it works this way.

Happy Endings Are All the Same:

Chapter Twelve

It was the first time in a while, but he was in the church, his little church. It was too unnerving to be in the house, all things considered. He knew his mother would never say anything directly about it, but he was uneasy about being around her after having had two nights in a row of Toshio staying over. Did she think they were…? How Toshio had ever been able to live in the same house as his mother with his wife was beyond him. It just seemed too… strange.

And then, of course, there was the whole matter that he wasn't really sure what was going on. He'd woken to find that he'd somehow managed to both roll away from the outer door in the night and take Toshio's hand in his. And he'd said he knew that Seishin wanted to… touch him. And had wanted to share the futon originally anyway. And hadn't pushed him away when he'd felt his hardness. And had… kissed him.

He bit his lip, resisted touching them. He was too old for stupid stuff like that. It wasn't like it was the first guy that had ever kissed him.

It was just… Toshio. Toshio, who was still married, even if it was fading out. Toshio who had always dated girls. The boy who had flung an enthusiastic arm around him often in high school, not knowing how difficult that made things for his friend.

Toshio who wasn't interested in men.

Seishin sighed, dropping his head back. He was just… getting his signals crossed. He'd been scared by what Seishin had done. And he was getting himself confused from it. He was the kind of person who could – he rushed into things so fast. He'd done that with Kyouko, after all. And he didn't really get it, did he? He'd been so shocked to hear about Kazuo, and Hibari-sensei, too…

Hibari-sensei. His first crush, even before Toshio… he hadn't felt that way about his friend until after that. He remembered when he left, it remained so firmly stuck in his memories. And of course it was. It had been his first kiss.

Toshio had teased him a lot, told him he was being a teacher's pet. And he'd let him do that, hadn't really protested, settling for simply looking a bit dismayed. Because he was scared of Toshio figuring out the truth, that he really liked Hibari-sensei. A lot. The way he was supposed to like the girls in their class or the pretty woman who had become their homeroom teacher after Hibari-sensei was gone. But he didn't like them that way; he liked Hibari-sensei that way. So he didn't really join in when the other boys were talking about girls, and it was marked down as being due to his being from the temple. And with the young teacher it was part of that, too – Seishin's too much of a good kid, so of course he's the teacher's pet.

He felt kind of stupid, hanging around after school, coming up with excuses for why he hadn't left yet. But he had kept at it anyway. And sometimes then he got to help the teacher with photo copies or something, and even sometimes he got to walk with him to the bus station, ride it part-way with him. Blush a lot and try not to sound dumb. He'd been sixteen and a late bloomer in that regard.

And then, the news had come that Hibari-sensei was leaving. It wasn't clear why. He just was. And Seishin had felt devastated. After school, he'd gone to see him, had been unreasonable, really. And then… had cried. Felt mortified. And as the sun's rays had slanted through the window, orange in the late afternoon, he'd been kissed.

And then he'd wanted to be held, to be felt. But that was it. He'd been kissed, smiled at sadly, told he would find someone. But Hibari-sensei had to leave.

It was his first experience with heartbreak. And there'd been no one to tell.

He'd wanted to tell Toshio. Toshio has bugged him about how much he was moping around after Hibari-sensei was gone, prodding him with remarks about the whole thing. Nothing at all that was near to hitting the mark, though. It wasn't something he would've considered. But something weird had happened – he'd gotten angry at Toshio, yelled at him, cried then, too. And Toshio didn't seem to really get what was going on, looking thoroughly bewildered throughout, but he'd let him cry on his shoulder, tried to calm him down.

He hadn't even gotten that when he broke it off with Kazuo.

When he'd met Kazuo, he'd felt a twinge of something. But at the time he was still in the throes of his high school crush on Toshio, and so it slipped away easily, forgotten. They became good friends, though, regardless, working on homework together, getting lunch, hanging out. So much so that they started to talk about ditching the crappy boarding house and getting a half-decent apartment together instead.

It was a little after when they'd moved in that he remembered that twinge, realized that there was something to it. And promptly felt a bleak despair. In love with another friend! Definitely couldn't tell him… what if he hated him because of it? But living with him was pure torture, trying to ignore how he was feeling, to nip it in the bud.

Funny how things turned out. A year into living together, they'd come back drunk from dinner, stumbling and laughing too loudly. In the living room, he'd tripped, and Kazuo had, too, for he'd been right close behind him. They fell on the floor, and he'd laughed breathlessly, feeling light-headed and somewhat alarmed at the close contact. And somehow they'd both figured it out, understood that they were both feeling the same. A collision of mouths, wandering hands… it hadn't been much, and it had been a bit scary afterward, but it had been the start of something.

He got so wrapped up in it. Occasionally he felt some guilt for not telling Toshio, but Toshio was never around anyway, too busy with studying, and he felt _happy_. Utterly, amazingly, idiotically happy. Coming home to someone who cared. That desire to be held and felt fulfilled.

But Sotoba reared its ugly head, and it just wasn't possible any more. Kazuo couldn't go with him, didn't want to, was upset that he was going to. Kazuo didn't come from a family with a tradition like that, either of a family company or a temple or whatever. His father was a professor, his mother a seamstress. Their own little Cinderella unit, in a way. Love overcame everything, didn't it?

He moved back to Sotoba and accepted his fate. Kazuo stayed in Tokyo, in their apartment.

And Toshio hadn't known any of this.

He was going to be unhappy again. He knew it. The doctor didn't really know what he was getting into. He was a man with a suicidal friend and an empty bed. It made sense to him, but that didn't mean it would actually work. It wouldn't take much for him to realize that. Maybe he would let him back in the futon again. It would get it all out of the way much faster.

And then… he studied the ceiling. And then?

A young man from another branch of the family, to train, to actually do the duties necessary for the temple. To have… a family. A wife and a son. Or even just a daughter, adoption wasn't so bad… The temple would go on. In the end, the temple would go on.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

A/N: Ok, so I'm a bit more interested in writing the next chapter. But, hey, first thing's first, so no erotic scenes for you folks quite yet.

Ok, so I may've pictured Takuto from Star Driver saying "It's a pinch~!" when I had Toshio saying, "It's a deal." Ugh.

Happy Endings Are All the Same:

Chapter Thirteen

She looked lovely when she arrived, the sun in her hair and her usual confidence clear in her manner as she walked up the path toward him. Toshio smiled at his wife, genuinely happy to see her. Yes, he was happy to give her the signed divorce papers, but the fact remained that he was fond of her regardless – just not really fond in the way a husband should be.

"So you aren't even going to invite me in for tea?" She teased, stopping front of him.

"I just figured you wouldn't want to run the risk of having to see my mother."

"Oh, she must be in a wonderful mood!" She made a face, rolled her eyes.

"Ah, well, she doesn't quite know yet. She started suggesting new wives about three days after you left; she doesn't need any encouragement."

"Well! I can understand that! She was after me about heirs within minutes of us becoming engaged!"

"Speaking of…" He cleared his throat, then took her arm, "Come in for some tea. There's a pot in my office, we don't have to deal with her."

"A prince as always." She smiled, allowing herself to be lead along.

The clinic itself was rather quiet, most of the staff at lunch in the break-room. The receptionist greeted them, inquired about Kyouko's little shop, and promised that next time he was in Mizobe he and his wife would stop by. It was all very pleasant, and Toshio was reminded of how much of a relief it was to have a staff that wasn't into running their mouths elsewhere. Discretion was key in a medical setting, but that didn't mean it was a given. He'd loved working at the university hospital, but all the gossip had made him uncomfortable at points. His father had been a tyrant, but he'd certainly set the standard.

In his office, he set the water to boil, and let Kyouko sit in his office chair, opting for the patient's chair himself.

"They're all here?" She was flipping through the pages, glancing over them to check for dates and signatures.

"Yeah."

She pursed her lips, "It wasn't all bad…"

"No, it wasn't." He leaned down to pull open one of the desk drawers, took two tea bags from a pile that were crammed in next to some cups and some instant coffee packets. He dropped them on the desk, then grabbed two of the cups, set them down, too. The water was almost boiled.

"I'll still come visit sometimes."

"And I'll go to your store."

"You say that as if you have before!"

Toshio laughed, pouring the water, "Well, one of these days…"

"Maybe you can bring someone special along, too." She took the cup, and a tea bag, unwinding the thread from the bag, "That way I can tell you if I approve or not."

"It's a deal."

They sipped their tea in silence for a few minutes, Toshio trying to work himself up to asking something, something important. She was mellow, a good thing. Although they'd never exactly fought, not like his own parents had from time to time. They argued, but it was all done in regular tones and biting words, not screaming and tossing things at each other. They were disagreements, really, not arguments. And it all traced back to the simple fact that they'd gotten married too young, that they hadn't really settled down like they'd always been told would happen when they got older. They loved each other… but were they in love with each other? They had been once. They were both sure of that. But as the months passed, it's currency they had become less and less convinced of.

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, cradling the cup in his hands, "I need to ask a favor."

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow.

"It's a big one."

"Well, go ahead."

"If… you do get married again, if you have a child…" He sat straight up again, looking her in the eye, "I want that child to be my heir. For this place."

She considered him carefully, then spoke, "You don't seem to have much confidence in yourself. It shouldn't be too hard for you to find a wife, even with that spiteful hag around all the time. You've got some cute nurses. The village thinks you're wonderful. I'm sure you'll be fine."

His eyes slid past her, out toward the window, "I don't know if I want to get married again."

Kyouko was still looking at him carefully, quiet. Finally, she spoke again, "Only if the child wants to. I won't force them. And what if it's a girl?"

"That doesn't matter."

She snorted, "I doubt your mother will see it that way!" She regained her composure, "Alright. But only if this supposed daughter or son wants to be a doctor. Otherwise, no."

He smiled at her, his own tone now gone mildly mocking, "You aren't even going to wait to see if the kid's father is okay with that?"

"Oh, please, like I'm going to bother with someone who doesn't realize that my word is the law."

"Sounds more like you want to marry a boy from the host club to me."

"Well, he'd probably be a better sight than you, at least!"

"You always have had lousy taste…"

She put her cup down, the contents at the bottom cooling quickly and muddied by escaped tea leaves, and took his hand. Her grip was tight, and he closed his hand around hers.

"Toshio, I really do mean it. I'm not convinced you're going to grow old alone, but if you do, I'll do it. I mean it."

He felt the firmness of her hand, the strength hidden in the delicate bones. His mother was an idiot to think this woman was such a bad catch.

"I know."


	15. Chapter Fourteen

A/N: Ok, so, maybe I lied on the last author's note, I definitely wrote this first. I did _try _to write the previous chapter first, but I couldn't manage to work myself up to it. Woot, porn first! 

I will note that it isn't nearly as explicit as the masturbation chapter, though.

Just assume that even when I'm not directly noting that Seishin is giggling, he probably is. Except during a certain part. You'll know which one.

Happy Endings Are All the Same:

Chapter Fourteen

Toshio was half-carrying Seishin, half-dragging him, the other man merely content to stumble around aimlessly in the dark, giggling. He gritted his teeth, as the priest continuously stepped on his own feet or kicked his ankles by accident, and forced the sliding door open with his shoulder. He hadn't dared bring him through the front door; he didn't want Mrs. Muroi to see her son in such a stupid state.

He heaved Seishin inside the darkened room, letting him thud to the floor, and stepped up and into the room himself, bringing the door behind him safely shut. The other man was attempting to sit up, and he cast a wary eye on his fruitless actions. It had been a very long time since he'd seen him so drunk – long enough that he'd forgotten how thoroughly obnoxious he could be when so.

How had he gotten so ridiculously hammered? It really wasn't like him to. And if anyone had been getting drunk lately, it had been Toshio.

Seishin, for his part, knew in some far-off and sober corner of his mind why he had gotten drunk. Or, rather, he would be able to answer it if asked the next day. Dinner had made him nervous; the invitation from Toshio coupled with the knowledge that they were celebrating the signing and presume filing of his divorce papers. So he'd had the sake quickly, trying to give himself some reason to not talk much before the food arrived at the table. On an empty stomach, it had gone right to his head.

"Come on, let's get you into something else, you can't sleep in those clothes and your shoes."

"But I don't want to sleep!"

Toshio sighed, jerking the bureau drawer open. He pulled out a yukata, and threw it at Seishin's head, "You'll be sorry if you don't."

"Don't want to!" He pouted.

The doctor walked back to him, "Don't tell me I'm gonna have to dress you…"

"Or strip me…" He grinned up, his glasses askew from the trip around the house in the shadowy night.

He ignored the comment, yanked the man's shirt off, and retrieved the yukata again only to drop it on his head, "I'm sure you can handle the rest."

"You're so mean, Toshiooo." He dragged it out, and Toshio could hear the movement of fabric as he removed the rest of his clothing, reluctantly put the pajamas on.

When he looked back, he felt exasperation flood him, the garment falling off his shoulder, the sash loose and poorly-knotted, "Last time I'll ever take you anywhere…" He moved back to his friend, started to undo the knot to pull the obi tighter, but his back hit the floor before he'd gotten much done, a giggling mass crushing him against the tatami, "Toshio, I could've just stayed naked."

He could smell the alcohol on him, feel the hot breath against his cheek. He gulped, but it was when Seishin licked him that he shoved him back and away, "You're drunk."

"No I'm not~"

It was a weirdly seductive voice, unlike how he thought of Seishin as sounding, a bit cloying and with a teasing edge to it. The priest moved back closer to him, and his own arms gave way easily as his neck was nuzzled. It was getting harder to breathe properly, and he could feel himself growing warm, their close proximity working its way under his skin.

"Oh, and what's this?" There was a smug smile in the voice, and Toshio started as a knee was rubbed against the growing hardness of his crotch. It was soon replaced by a hand, one that had wandered down his side, then slipped over and between his legs.

"Seishin… you're drunk…" He said, weakly, feeling light-headed himself.

A hot mouth pressed down upon his own, a tongue forcing itself between his lips. He yielded, letting his mouth give way, and breathed a heavy breath out his nostrils. The hand hesitated, and he almost whined, only to realize that his pants were being undone. He was about to break away from Seishin's mouth, but dropped his head back against the surface instead as he felt fingers against the delicate skin of his bare penis.

When he did end the kiss, it was only because he could no longer focus on it. Seishin nipped at his neck, and he sighed, baring more of his neck. He heard the other man giggle at this, and then he eased off of him, his weight shifting away. Toshio looked up in confusion, was greeted with a mischievous grin, and almost bit his tongue as the hand was replaced with a tongue.

"Sei… Sei…" He tried to reach down to stop him, his breath coming in pants. But he couldn't, and it dawned on him that he didn't really want to, either.

Seishin lapped at the head of his cock, before taking it into his mouth, wrapping his tongue against it. A strangled sort of noise echoed from Toshio's throat. It was pretty clear that it wasn't something the priest was new to. If anything, it seemed he was quite good at it.

"Seishin…" He sighed it, bringing his right hand to rest in his hair, feeling the movement of his friend's head through his arm. He spread his legs, trying to grant better access, moaned at the result. Seishin had taken him in completely, his head tilted so he could fit it.

He was on the edge. The tongue was hot, the mouth was hot, he was hot. He wanted to push his pants down more, pull his shirt up, open the door, something to relieve the heat, anything but having Seishin stop.

It was when the priest returned his attention to the head that Toshio came, forcing a fist against his mouth to muffle the noise, spasming.

And then Seishin was up in his arms again, looking satisfied, his eyes shiny with liquor. He kissed him, and the doctor let him although his own bitterness was on his tongue, feeling shaken.

"Hey, Toshio… we're having such a good night, aren't we?" There was the tongue again, against his check again, and his grip around his friend strengthened, "Such a good night…."

Toshio kissed him back.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

A/N: Wow, already been almost two months since I updated! Geez, sorry to leave folks hanging. I've been so busy.

Also, writing a person throwing up in a fashion befitting of the rest of how this prose has gone is hard.

Anyway, I'm bleedy and Muroi is hungover. Fun combo.

Happy Endings Are All the Same:

Chapter Fifteen

Toshio awoke when he heard the sound of a door being violently slid back followed by coughing and hacking. He sat up quickly to see Seishin clinging feebly to the doorframe and vomiting, the sunlight strong on the floor.

Seishin felt horrendous. The sunshine was not helping. Nor were the chirping birds. Or even, really, the fresh air. His muscles spasmed again as he heaved, an acid burn in his throat and mouth, tears pricking the corners of his eyes from the effort. He felt hands on him, one on his shoulder, the other by his waist, guiding him up from his pathetic position. His vision was blurred; where were his glasses? Had they fallen when he'd thrown the door open?

He pressed a desperate hand to his mouth, then, the change in altitude combined with his poor vision sending his stomach into twists again. Distantly he heard Toshio's voice as he resisted the urge to gag again, "Come on… let's get you to the bathroom…"

He leaned heavily into Toshio, focusing intensely on not stumbling or doing anything to cause a racket. He didn't want his parents to know what was going on.

A wisp of a memory came back to him briefly, of similar attempts at quiet as a teenager after having discovered sake one night, similar attempts which had ended with Toshio being beaten by his own father and with Seishin feeling a deep sense of shame for having disappointed his mother and father. But as bile rose again, it fluttered out of his consciousness as easily as it had surfaced in it.

In the bathroom he threw up again, knuckles white to match the porcelain as he gripped the edges of the toilet. He was thankful for the Western-style toilet; it was easier to vomit into than Japanese ones were – there was something more to hold onto. One of Toshio's hands was light on his back, another one messily holding back his hair so it wouldn't get caught in the deluge.

He coughed a lot, hanging over the chilly fixture, and some more of his stomach acids came up, although it seemed that anything he'd had to drink the night before had to be gone already. He hovered a bit even after it had settled down, leery of making any fast movements, exhausted from the ordeal. And he hesitated, too, for bits of the night had started to trickle back to him and he was putting off having to turn to face his old friend as much as he could.

He forced a few more coughs, dragging the minutes out, and the doctor rubbed his back, accustomed to the ill. But he had to stop – if he kept it up, he'd probably start puking again, and he was tired of the sensation. So he leaned back on his heels, finally, and wobbled a bit, worn-out.

Toshio stood and moved over to the wall, settling in with his back against it. The space was small, and there was little distance between the two, Toshio behind Seishin. He reached forward, and Seishin felt himself being gingerly shifted back, the other man's arms coming around him. He allowed himself to be brought into a seated position, his back against Toshio's torso, the doctor's arms loose around him. He was too flushed from being sick to manage a blush.

"I… I'm sorry." He said, weakly.

"I was worse when we were kids."

"Well, but you never…"

There was a pause, then, "People don't usually apologize for giving good blowjobs."

Seishin shifted a bit, uncomfortably, "I was drunk…"

"You hit on the waiter, too."

"I what?"

"The waiter. At the restaurant. Although he only seemed to mind that I didn't let you give him your number."

Seishin ducked his head in embarrassment, "I'm sorry…"

"Stop apologizing. I told you, I was worse when we were kids." He frowned, "Why'd you drink so much, anyway?"

"I was nervous…"

"Why?"

"Because… you just filed the divorce papers… and… everything else…"

"Oh."

Toshio was quiet for a moment, thoughtful, and then spoke again, "Don't drink so much next time."

"Next time?"

"Yeah… next time…" He blushed, a rare occurrence, then said hurriedly, "And we're not going to that restaurant again."

"Was it bad? I don't even remember…"

"I didn't like the waiter." He scowled.

Seishin leaned his head back, let his eyes shut, "No wonder Kyouko's getting rid of you."

Toshio snorted, "Then what does that say about you?"

"That…" He stopped, started again, "I'm hungover."

"Gee, thanks."

"Hungover…" He felt sleepy. Too sleepy to worry about things, too warm to want to move. It was an even keel, and there was no need to rock the boat. And, so, the village priest fell asleep against the village doctor in the bathroom.


End file.
